#so she said 'nah son' and braced for it

[g3z0]

The summer I turned pretty P1

Summary: Every summer, you and your family go on vacation to the summer house of the Sturniolo’s. You basically grew up with the Sturniolo kids. You haven’t been there last year, so you didn’t saw the Sturniolo’s since two years. Nothing can change that much in two years. At least that’s what you thought.

Warnings: cursing

NEW FIC BABY!! I love the summer I turned pretty even if it’s cheesy. Hope you enjoy

-g3z0

„You should really bring this along.“ Ava says as she’s looking through my closet.

„Hm?“ I bring my head up from my phone, looking at my best friend.

She holds a red shirt out to me my mom bought me a while ago. I shake my head „nah, I don’t like that shirt.“ I mumble.

She turns to me and rolls her eyes „but you look so good in it!“ she protests, laying it into my suitcase.

I let out a sigh. „Hey.“ she whispers as she walks over to me. „Im gonna miss you..“ she says as she cups my cheeks in her hand, making me look up at her.

„Im just gone for the summer.“ I smile. She squeezes my cheeks and laughs a little before she lets go off me „still.“

„Im gonna miss you too.“ I breathe as she sits down on my bed next to me.

She looks over to the pinboard that’s hanging on the wall next to my bed. She hums and takes one picture that’s attached to it.

„Awhhh, you and the triplets?“ she smiles as she looks down at the pic.

I look down at the picture. It’s a pic of Matt, Chris, Nick and me, standing in front of their summer house. It was taken 2 years ago when we were 14.

„oh my god, they look exactly alike!“ she laughs. I smile and shake my head „nah, they don’t.“

She looks at me and rolls her eyes „yeah- because you know them.“ She points at Chris on the picture „who’s that?“ she asks.

„Chris.“ I answer, looking back at her. She raises her eyebrows and nudges me with her elbow „you just made that up.“ she laughs.

„I didn’t.“ I state with a chuckle. She hangs the picture back to my pinboard „he’s cute.“ she says.

I scrunch my nose up and turn my face to the side „Ava.“ I sigh. „Y/n.“ she laughs „what? He is.“

„That was two years ago.“ I nod to the picture before looking back at her. She shrugs with her shoulders „and? Bet he’s hot now.“

„Ava. Gross.“ I say, standing back up. She lets out a laugh and runs through her hair. „You‘re just jealous.“ she teases.

„Oh yeah, totally.“ I say sarcastically as I put the rest of my clothes into my suitcase.

-

Am I nervous? Of course I am.

We’re driving for like 40 hours. At least that’s what it feels like.

My brother Matteo drives even more slower than my grandma.

I sit in the passenger seat, listening to music through my AirPods as I day dream while I look out of the window.

My mother is sitting in the backseat, a book in her hand wich she read like 4 pages from before she fell asleep.

I didn’t saw the Sturniolo’s in two years because my dad thought it would be a great idea to remember he has two sons expect his other kids and wanting to „bond“ with them again.

At least that’s what he told my mom.

Matteo didn’t want to come. My dad expected that. When I said I didn’t want to come. He didn’t expect that.

Probably because I was 15 and Matteo was 18.

I was pissed off all summer long. I needed to play the babysitter for my dads other kids.

The only time my dad even talked to me was when he commented on my body.

I was an ugly kid - glasses, braces, weird body type.

For the whole summer my dad forced me to train with him. And I didn’t stop.

My braces are gone, I’m wearing contact lenses and I grew like fucking 5 inches. I hit puberty late.

So that’s what changed. Everything else was just the same when I saw the triplets the last time-

„Owh!“ I groan and look over to my brother as he slapped me against my shoulder. I pull out one of my AirPods and look at him with a frown „what the fuck was that for?“

Matteo looks over to me for a second before he looks back at the road. „Im talking to you for like 5 minutes straight, till I see you have your fucking AirPods in.“ he sighs.

I roll my eyes and slump back into my seat. „Asshole.“ I mumble as I put my AirPod back into my ear.

I hear Matteo’s muffled voice through my music, making me turn my phone volume up to the highest.

As we drive the same old road to cousins, I roll my window down, breathing in the familiar scent of the city.

Everytime we drive into Cousins, it feels like I’m coming home after I’ve been gone for a long time.

In Cousins, everything stays the same. It never changes. And I think that’s what gives me so much comfort.

When we’re finally there and Matteo drives onto the property of the Sturniolo’s, Matt and Chris already sit at the porch.

The triplets were blond when they were kids. Now they have dark brown hair. I don’t know if it’s the Boston air or if they just don’t go out that much.

Matt is wearing a middle part, not the ugly ass buzz cut our moms gave us every summer. Chris has long, curvy hair, most of it covered in a „new era“ cap.

I smile and take my AirPods out.

I lean over towards Matteo, pressing my hand against the horn two times.

My mom flinches and looks confused at us, before she looks out of the window „we’re already there..?“ she mumbles in a sleepy voice.

Matteo laughs a little and gets out of the car. I shake my head and do the same. Chris and Matt walk over to us, glaring at me hard.

„What the fuck happened with little y/n?“ Chris laughs, looking at me like I’m a different person.

„Language, Owen.“ my mother says as she gets out of the car. Chris smiles and interlocks his hands behind his back „hello, Darleen.“ he says, a familiar politeness in his voice wich my mom knows is just faked.

My mom chuckles and shakes her head, walking over to Matt and Chris. „Hey boys.“ she smiles softly as she hugs Matt first and then Chris.

It’s weird to see how much taller the two are than my mom now. I feel like it was just yesterday when we four were almost at the same height as her.

„Where’s Mary-lou?“ she asks as she pulls her sunglasses that where on her head, over the bridge of her noise. Matt nods towards the house „inside, she’s cooking.“ after that she walks into the house.

Matteo closes the door of the car „where’s Justin?“ he yells over to us.

„Inside!“ Chris and Matt yell back synchronously.

You know those two opossums from ice age? Yeah, Matt and Chris are literally them.

Matt and Chris watch my mom and matteo, waiting before they disappear into the house.

Then Chris takes me into a headlock, ruffling over my hair. „We missed you, though guy!“ Chris laughs.

I scrunch my nose and laugh, pushing him away from me. „I certainly didn’t.“ I lie.

Matt rolls his eyes before he daps me up and hugs me. „What does Darleen feed you?“ he chuckles as he lets go off me. „I swear, the last time we saw you, you were like 3 apples tall.“

„I wasn’t.“ I chuckle as I look around. „Where’s Nick?“

„Somewhere, I don’t know.“ Chris shrugs as he walks past me, towards the car trunk. I look at Matt and he also shrugs, doing the same as Chris. „Alright.“ I breathe, following them.

-

„Eat more, sweetheart.“ Mary-Lou says softly to me as she sits besides me at the dinner table.

I give her a warm smile before I shake my head „no, I’m good. But it tastes really good.“

My mom scoffs and nudges mary-Lou into her side with her elbow „he’s just saying that. You should see him at home! I need to go grocery shopping every day because of the two!“ she chuckles.

I roll my eyes playfully and look over the table. My eyes fall onto Nicks empty seat.

„do you have your sketchbook with you?“ Justin asks me on my other side, turning my attention from nicks seat to his. I nod a little as I put a piece of meat into my mouth. „Mhm.“

Justin was always impressed by my drawings. Sometimes it feels like he was the only reason I kept going.

He smiles at me and nods as he grabs his glass off the table „good. Show me after, aight?“

„Alright.“

„Don’t push his ego.“ Matteo says to Justin, shaking his head.

„Matt.. stop.“ my mom says, making Matteo and Matt look at her. My mom frowns before she shakes her head with a chuckle „sorry- not you, sweetie.“ she says to Matt. „Matteo. Stop.“ she corrects herself.

„I didn’t do anything!“ he defends himself, throwing his hands up.

„Sure you didn’t.“ Mary-Lou says.

One of the worst things about summer is when my mom is mad at me or Matteo. And when my mom is mad - Mary-Lou is mad.

The same thing with Mary-Lou’s kids.

Jimmy, the dad of the triplets, always comes a few weeks later than us. He only stays for a week tho - he’s too busy with work.

„So.“ my mother starts, looking at Matt and Chris „how does hockey and lacrosse do?“

I sigh to myself. Here we go.

Chris and Matt’s eyes light up as they start to yap about their team, their practices and everything that comes to their mind.

Like I said, the opossums of ice age.

I never was a big fan of sports. Nick wasn’t either.

So every summer when Matt and Chris played sports, me and Nick did something alone. Or we sat at the side and watched them, talking about god knows what.

Justin and Matteo are older than us. They always just did their own thing. Sometimes when we got lucky, our mom’s forced them to take us along.

It was fun for us, not for our older brothers.

My eyes fall back onto nicks empty seat. I stare at it for a few seconds before I let out a sigh, looking down on my plate and stabbing a piece of meat with my fork.

-

My room is still the same as ever. Nothing changed.

It’s the middle of the night now. Matt, Chris and me stayed downstairs for a while before they headed to bed.

I grab my swimming shorts out of my suitcase that’s laying on my bed and put them on.

I quietly open my door and sneak past the other rooms to the stairs. I walk downstairs and push the doors in the living room open that’s leading outside into the backyard.

The warm night breeze hits me and I smile to myself.

It is a routine. Every year, the first night, I wait until everyone is asleep and then I go swimming on my own in the pool.

My first night swim this summer.

I slowly step into the pool, the cold water is making a shiver run up my spine.

I swim a few laps. As I pull my head out of the water to get some air, I pause, seeing Nick sitting at the edge of the pool with his legs in the water, smoking a cigarette.

I freeze a little, glaring at him.

Matt and Chris have changed a lot in those two years. Not in their personality but in their looks. But Nick?

His buzz cut is gone, brown wavy hair is covering his forehead. He has a nose ring and his right arm is covered in tattoos.

His cold eyes lock onto mine as he calmly takes a drag from his cigarette.

I push my hair back and run over my face to get it a little dry. „Since when do you smoke?“ I ask, glaring at him. I tilt my head a little „and what are you even doing here?“

I didn’t saw him in two years and that’s seriously the first thing I say to him?

He exhales the smoke „wich should I answer first?“ he asks with his typical Nick face. Unbothered, annoyed.

My heart bumps against my chest.

I swim over to the edge and stop in front of him. „Second.“ I breathe.

He looks down at me and shrugs with his shoulders „couldn’t sleep. Took a walk.“

That’s a lie. He just came out here to smoke.

„how did you know I was out here? And since when do you smoke?“ I ask again, watching him as he takes another drag of his cigarette.

„You changed.“ he says, still not breaking eye contact with me. I lick my lips and look down at myself before looking back up at him. „You changed.“ I breathe. „And you didn’t answer my question.“

„Wich one?“ he questions, tilting his head.

I frown „what?“ He brings his cigarette up to his lips before speaking again. „You asked two questions.“ he states, taking another drag.

„Uhm.. both.“ I say. He shakes his head and his lips turn into a small smile before he flicks his cigarette into the grass „you’re out here like every night y/n.“

He stands up and walks towards the house, leaving me confused in the water.

„And the first question? Since when do you smoke?“ I yell after him.

„Good Night, y/n.“ he yells back before he disappears into the house.

I watch him disappear into the house with a frown.

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick x reader

[jungle-angel]

I'll Kiss Your Hurt Away (Rhett Abbott x Reader)

Summary: Rhett's had the roughest ride of his life and has to call it quits in the bull riding ring, but one decision leads to new beginnings.

Warnings: Mentions of adoption, parenthood, injuries, hospitals, light smut etc.

Tagging: @floydsmuse @callmemana @attapullman @bradleybeachbabe @sebsxphia @kmc1989 @cowboybarbie

"Alright, watch yourself Rhett," you said, guiding him in through the door.

Rhett winced as he moved on his crutches through the door, his leg in a brace and his body bruised beyond all comprehension. His ribs were so sore he could hardly breathe and all he wanted was to be able to lay down.

Amy came waddle running from the kitchen with her blankie and her little circus clown ragdoll in her hand wanting nothing more than for Rhett to pick her up and give her kisses.

"Sweet pea let Daddy get upstairs and lay down," Royal told her from the kitchen.

Rhett hobbled for the stairs where you set to helping him up. Royal threw Rhett's arm across the back of his shoulders and helped him upstairs, giving you an extra hand until you finally reached your shared bedroom where he could lay down.

"Ya'll want anything son?" Royal asked him.

"Grilled cheese with bacon and a Seven-Up," Rhett croaked.

"Roy I can get it, it's alright," you told him.

"Nah don't worry about it (y/n), you've done enough," Royal said.

You curled up beside your husband on the bed, coiling an arm around him but backing off when you noticed the pained grimmace.

"M'sorry sweetheart," he croaked. "Wanna hold you and the baby so fuckin bad but I'm hurtin."

You kissed his lips, letting it linger before you left the room and returned with Amy. You didn't dare release her, knowing she'd crawl all over Rhett.

"Daddy kissy!! Kissy!!" she demanded.

Rhett leaned over a little and gave her a big wet kiss on her cheek, throwing her into a fit of giggles before you left to put her down in her bed for a nap.

He only ate a little throughout the day with your father-in-law popping in every few minutes to see how he was and offering to shoulder most of the parenting duties with Amy. Cecelia called from her mother's place in Casper to check in, informing you that she would be home by next weekend to help, but for now, you and Rhett would take what little time you could to heal.

"Didn't think I'd look this bad," he chuckled as you dabbed his forehead with a cool washcloth.

"I'll say," you said. "You look like a battered grape."

Rhett laughed, wincing as a wave of pain tore through his ribs and took the breath right out of him.

"Where does it hurt?" you asked him. "Show me."

Rhett gave you a playful but exaggerated look, the same way Amy often did when she didn't get what she wanted.

"Come on," you laughed. "Show the nurse where it hurts."

Rhett lifted his shirt up just past his nips, revealing the ugly black and blue spots that had pooled just about everywhere. You giggled a little when he gave you that cheeky grin of his.

"What, you're afraid darlin?" he asked.

You shook your head and kissed the little dip in his chest between his pecs and around his nips, reveling in the little purr that caught in his throat.

"Little lower there darlin."

You wiggled your eyebrows and kissed all the way down his ribcage, your tongue swirling around every little bruise and around his bellybutton, shushing him gently when he got too loud so that nobody would hear if they came into the house. Sure enough, you heard Royal coming in with Amy, the two of you quickly fixing yourselves so that he wouldn't notice.

"Feel any better?" you asked when the two of you had settled into bed for the night.

"Better than the damn pain meds Pete gave me on the way out," Rhett mumbled.

You kissed him before you both drifted off into sleep, happy to be in each other's arms once again.

#rhett abbott #rhett abbott x reader #amy abbott #outer range

[vickyvicarious]

The bracing breath Jack takes before beginning his entry.

also, starting with Jack? I'm quite curious what the reasons for the various reorderings are throughout re: Dracula. Sometimes it seems to try and more accurately reflect timing or for dramatic effect, but not always. here seems to be pretty neatly divided by timing but it just reminded me

"I fear that in some mysterious way poor Mrs. Harker's tongue is tied. I know that she forms conclusions of her own, and from all that has been I can guess how brilliant and how true they must be; but she will not, or cannot, give them utterance." MINAAAAA

oooh the dual voices on "vampire's baptism of blood" is great

"The same power that compels her silence may compel her speech." my brain is rotted by too many memes, I pictured among us and Jack and van Helsing agreeing that Mina seems 'sus'

the slow music as van Helsing talks about Mina changing...

I hate Mina being left out again ughhh

the ominous music fading out into the lighthearted music as Quincey talks of wolf-hunting, and then back into ominous as

"We four?" this delivery is SO GOOOOOOOD. and the way Jack says "Harker was silent for a while" gave me chills imagining him. ohohohoho I love it

he sounds so clipped when he says they'll talk in the morning as well. he's going to talk privately with Mina first and foremost, and they will both decide what to do after that.

Jonathan's great upset at Mina being left out and people being somehow fine with that??? after how it turned out last time?!?! ...it's so good

I love van Helsing being the one to describe all this. Quincey and Art and Jack were all there too. They could perhaps correct some stuff, like Quincey saying he gave him tobacco or money or whatever, or explaining what "much blood and bloom" mean, but... nah

van Helsing's accent makes it sound like he keeps saying "the sin man" and I'm like, yeah, fair enough

the captain assuming Dracula is French is so interesting/weird

god I love the music

"for we have seen the owner of the ship, who have shown us invoices and all papers that can be." ~document supremacy~

the way Mina says "oh! I dread Jonathan leaving me" :(

And the delivery of those three "necessary"s is soooo good.

Man, the building energy of van Helsing's speech leading to "And now this is what he is to us!" and "shall make you like him! This must not be! We have sworn together that it must not!" also how he sounds like he is choking back tears when he says "to live in your own old, sweet way" and "men for whom His Son die"

His laugh is so wounded sounding

the drum as van Helsing describe what Dracula did to prepare

I love the sigh and refocusing in "But we are pledged to set the world free."

god, the way Mina says "unclean" with such disgust

"How strange it all is" Jonathan sounds so miserable

the music as Mina asks for his promise <3

Jonathan's hesitation to promise to deny Mina in the future.

How gentle their voices are

"I promise!" and as I said it I felt that from that instant a door had been shut between us." god this line. this delivery. agonizing...

the plea for a dreamless sleep is so sad. he sounds almost on the edge of choking up on the last word

#dracula daily #re: dracula #jack seward #van helsing #mina murray #jonathan harker

[secondgenerationnerd]

Could we get some teen lian and dad roy at home pls (ps i have always felt like irey had adhd and jai has autism what are your thoughts on that?)

Ooo if we’re talking the comic versions, absolutely! My versions lean more toward the Hyperactive ADHD, meshing interestingly with Mar’i’s austim. (Lian is some form of neuro spicy, she just doesn’t care enough for a diagnosis) Fun fact: ADHD and Autism have a fair amount of similar traits

Adding in Jason for some fun 😂😂😂

————————

“Dad?” Lian calls out, tossing her keys to the side.

“In here, Pum’kin!” Roy calls from the kitchen. Walking in, she takes note of her father’s mussed up hair and rumpled clothes, even if he’s causally sitting on the counter. Wouldn’t be too weird if Uncle Jason’s dark hair wasn’t sticking up, or wearing one of her dad’s goofy shirts, chopping vegetables for dinner like it’s any other night. Doesn’t help that her dad’s checking Jason out way more than ‘best friends’ should.

“You two are shameless.” She snorts, kissing her uncle’s cheek.

“Uh-huh. You do remember that two of your teammates are my little brother and my niece, right, kid?”

Her dad raises an eyebrow at the other man, “Why would she need to remember that?”

“Because, Dad,” Lian jumps onto the counter top beside him, lowering her voice to mimic Jason’s, “They’re the big scary Bats.”

“Ah yes. The big scary bats.” Roy nods grimly, “Mysterious. Spooky.”

“One could even say Creepy.”

“Or Kooky.” As if on cue, father and daughter snap their fingers twice, then crack up. Jason rolls his eyes and waits for it to die down.

“I was telling her to remember because she and that boyfriend of hers—“

“You can say Jai, Uncle Jason. Your brother’s best friend’s son. My best friend.”

“The one shoving his tongue down your throat every 20 minutes. At least according to Mar’i.”

Roy shakes his head, “Nope. My Squeaker’s never kissed any one. Male, female, non-binary, anyone in between or beyond those descriptions.”

“…Roy, babe, you do realize she and the speedster fu—“

“Fundamentally get along, yes.”

Lian can’t help but snort, “Yeah, Dad. Just like how you and Mom ‘Fundamentally getting along’ lead to me.”

Roy makes a face at his daughter, which she happily returns, “If Jai gets you pregnant, I’ll castrate him.”

“Bold of you to assume I wouldn’t have done it already.” Grabbing a water bottle from the fridge, she heads upstairs, “I’m gonna change! Don’t forget Mar’i and the twins will be here later!”

“What? You don’t want them to know you’re in private school? I’m sure they’d love the uniform—“

“DAD!”

Shaking his head and laughing, Roy looks back at Jason, “Remember when she was little?So sweet and even tempered?”

“The feral hellion, who swore at classmates in preschool?” Jason snorts. But he puts down the knife he was using, looking at the other man, “Do I need to have a conversation with Jai?”

“Nah, he’s a good kid.” Roy shrugs, “If Wally didn’t teach him to respect a partner, Linda put the fear of God into him. Now, get over here.”

“She’s right upstairs, Roy.” But Jason moves towards him. Arms bracing against the counter, boxing the archer in, he raises an eyebrow. The picture of patience. Like they hadn’t been 5 minutes away from stumbling upstairs when Lian’s car pulled up.

“Yeah, but she always hides her school uniform. We’ve got, like, 15 minutes at least.”

“In that case.” Jason leans in. Just as their lips meet, a shout comes from upstairs—

“Dad? Do you know where that explosive arrow I was working on went?”

Dropping his head, Roy grumbles, “Have a kid they said. Such a blessing, they said.”

“Roy, we both know damn well no one told you to have a kid.”

#lian harper #lian nguyen harper #roy harper #jason todd #arsenal #red hood #little red hood

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

(Yes I still got OrangeJuiceVerse Stan on the brain)

It is so important to me that OJV Stan is the most accident prone loser on the PLANET! Like other than Kenny, he’s cooonnnnstantly a disaster magnet also fucking South Park (Patrick Stump Voice: “STOP BY THIS DISASTER TOWN”) this man just forever is a victim of minor injuries. Ojverse Kyle may be the one with chronic pain, but Stan is out here getting hurt in the dumbest ways.

Like he’ll show up to school with one of those cvs finger splints and Kyle will go “dude how’d you break your finger, football?” And Stan is embarrassed as shit like “nah I uhhh opened the door wrong” “how the fuck do you open the door wrong” “idk I just did” smh loser dumbass.

Not to mention that he’s Tall and tall people are very at risk of hitting their heads on shit, he’s definitely *bonked* himself on cabinets and doorframes, also the amount of concussions this man sustained growing up it’s a wonder he has any brain cells left.

Thank GOD the fucker gets sober at 25 because he’s even clumsier when he’s drunk, there was this whole incident in college where he and Kenny, absolutely plastered, wandered over to a nearby park to do drunk parkour while dressed in their Halloween costumes (Kenny was dr frankenfurter and stan was eddie, they did Rocky Horror that year) (also this was referenced here) Kyle was PISSED bc Stan bruised the shit out of his back and yeah he and Ken were in Trouble for like two months.

This guy has totally burnt himself starting fires on camping trips, cut himself washing a knife, got too excited about the sword he bought for his wedding and fully put a hole in the wall slinging it around like stan you loser that thing is SHARP goddamn who let this man get a sword just so he could cut the cake with it (that thing (he definitely named it something stupid) was under Sharon’s protection right up until the ceremony bc my queen knows her fantasy dork son would probably slice his leg open if left unattended lmao)

Literally he’s also such a horrible patient when he gets hurt enough to actually affect his life, like he falls down the Widowmakers in the SP Survivor college house and totally should be wearing a neck brace for a little bit but he WONT bc “marj chill out the dr said it was just encouraged” bruh it literally took Cartman telling him he was a “goddamn hippie-hypocrite” bc everyone knows Stan’s overbearing as hell when anyone else is hurt or sick. When Stan broke his arm in high school he absolutely tried to get kenny to cut the cast off way too early bc it was itchy and stupid lmfao Kyle caught them with a pair of pliers down the plaster and almost lost his shit smh the Disaster Duo is the sole fuel to his high blood pressure hdasfjdhkl.

He really is such a hypocrite too, he’ll be out here running a high ass fever and ignoring it until he stands up and collapses and then he gets mad when someone else does the same shit. On god someone’ll trip and and skin their palms and Stan will be like “dude you gotta be CAREFUL when it’s icy outside” and then they’re just like “Stan I literally watched you eat shit in the parking lot racing Kenny to your truck like, yesterday.” Smh. Also this man does not remember to drink water ever he’s convinced any liquid counts and he SO fainted from dehydration at a student council blood drive in hs (Wendy was working the checkin station and got so mad at him lmfao he was like “wends pls don’t tell Kyle” and she told kyle and then the Red Cross worker is taping his stab hole closed while this boy she didn’t think would be a problem is getting chastised by both of them lmao. But of course he’s on Kenny’s ass to remember to hydrate. And lord during his stint as the school mascot for that one spring semester he’s out here at cheerleading practice reminding all the girlies to drink water and Bebe is like “pack it up Superman” (he totally looks like Superman) “did YOU drink water?” (This dumbass did not)

Anyway OJV Stan my sweet boy he’s well meaning but also accident prone and maybe a little adhd <3

#south park #me being insane #OrangeJuiceVerse #bc I never shut up about it #lmm voice:look at my son #headcanons #I just feel like he’s a disaster magnet #stan marsh #my au

[topazy]

Inside, outside

Pairings: 10K x reader, Addy Carver sister x reader

Warnings: Mentions of blood, swearing, violence

Chapter: 2.12

Feeling a presence behind you, you turned back to see Vasquez walking in your direction. He sat down on the log across from you.

“Can’t sleep either, I’m guessing.”

You glanced back down at the notepad sitting on your lap. “Nah, I took over from Addy early. Besides, it’s hard to sleep on the grass when I can’t stop imagining bugs crawling all over me.”

“You're in a zombie apocalypse and you're more concerned about spiders crawling into your hair,” he said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lip.

“Exactly.”

“What are you looking at?”

You handed him the notepad and noticed the way his eyes opened in surprise. “This is something. Some of these are horrifying, no offence.”

You shrug, “none taken. That’s why I took those pictures. So I won't forget.”

“I don’t think anyone will be forgetting the rotten monsters that rose from the dead anytime soon.”

You scoff at his words. Vasquez had the ability to make you feel incredibly dumb just by the tone of his voice alone. It wasn’t that you disliked him, you just didn’t understand him.

“I don't want to forget their faces,” you said as you reached for your notepad. “I don’t have pictures of my family from before the apocalypse and I sometimes struggle to remember them, so I’m making sure to take pictures of the fucked up family I have now.”

“I get it,” Vasquez pulled his dog tags over his neck and handed them to you. The first thing you noticed was a wedding ring. “I can’t remember what my wife's voice was like.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t even know you were married… did she die during the apocalypse?”

“No,” he deadpanned. You regretted asking when you saw his jaw tense. “I was a DEA agent. I worked for the US Mexican task force. I’d been assigned to dismantle the Zero cartel, but something went wrong. They found out who I was. They kidnapped my wife, Angie, and our baby girl, Julia. He shot them right in front of me.”

Your stomach twisted in knots. “I’m so sorry, Vasquez. That must have been awful. I hope the son of the bitches who did it is dead.”

“Not yet, but I’ll get my revenge one day.”

—

Your group was currently surrounded by Z's and were running low on ammo.

“Now would be the time to pull a miracle out of your ass Murphy!” you yelled while stepping back.

You’d made it to the Mexican border easily enough, but when another car crashed into you, the sounds of the horns blaring attracted an onslaught of the infected.

As you braced yourself for the worst, somebody else began shooting at the dead. Somebody opened the window from inside the border wall and whistled for you all to follow him.

When you jumped down into a hallway, you realised it was the same men who ran the Z weed farm. Hector, or Escorpion, as he was known as, You groaned as Murphy stepped forward and told the bounty hunters he was ‘the Murphy’. He was incapable of keeping his mouth shut. You kept your gun pointed at Hector as Murphy pulled off his top to show his zombie bite scars.

Satisfied that Murphy was the real deal, Hector orders his men to back off and says a woman named La Reina is looking for your group to give them a reward.

—

You let out a gasp as you followed Hector outside into his people's garden. It was beautiful. All the plants were well maintained, with blossoming flowers beside them.

“Did you catch what he just said?” Your sister asks.

“No, why? Was it important?”

She rolled her eyes and smiled, “yes.” She whispered. “The person in charge is called the Queen of the Dead and has been watching us with drones.”

“Who doesn’t at this point?”

A brunette with a lot of tattoos on her face was waiting by the front door of the building you were walking up to. She whispered something to Hector and then moved back.

Hector nodded. “La Reina awaits your presence.”

—

La Reina greeted Murphy as if he was a celebrity and shared that she’d been sending her best men to hunt him down. She refused to say why she was hunting him down and insisted on showing everyone instead.

She shot you a wink as she walked by, “no need for weapons here.”

Reluctantly, you handed your weapons over to her men, “Try not to lose them.”

You waited for Warren, who was walking towards you with a fake smile on her face with Addy on the other side of her. “What’s the plan here?”

“Stay alive. Get out when we can with Murphy.”

—

“Welcome to my laboratory.”

The first thing you notice is the dead body on the table. Grimacing, you walk by it quickly. La Reina told you on the walk over that her doctor had been working on a cure so she could dispute the cure all over the world. The only thing she needed was Murphy’s blood.

So far her intentions seemed pure, she wanted to help others and not just herself.

The second door leading into the room opened and Kurian walked inside.

10K stepped in front of you protectively.

“Murphy,” Kurian says, stepping closer. His smile fades when he spots you. “You little-”

“You son of a bitch,” your sister spat.

Warren shook her head, “So this is where the zeros took you. I thought they were going to kill you.”

“I'm glad they didn't,” you say as you take a step ahead of the others. “Now I can do it myself.”

10K and Doc held you back from swinging at him. La Reina rolls her eyes, “you two know each other?”

“You hear about the nuclear strike in Colorado? He’s the one behind it.”

“Colorado?” La Reina shot Kurian a glare. “That’s where you went off with all my money?”

“I am mending my ways now. Plus, I would have come back sooner if that little bitch hadn’t shot me in the leg.”

“You shot him?”

“You're lucky I missed. I was aiming for your head!”

10K put his arm around your waist and pulled you closer to stop you from going any closer to the doctor.

“Lieutenant,” La Reina says, unimpressed as she steps in front of Warren. “I understand you and your people. If someone tried to kill me, I would not rest until I took my revenge, but nobody is going to kill my doctor, are they?”

“No.”

“Why not? I would.”

You could sense Warren’s hesitation, so you answered for her. “Because you took our guns.”

La Reina let out a loud laugh, “Yes I did. But something tells me a smart woman like you can make weapons out of anything, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So why not kill him?”

Warren cuts in, “because he might be the only one who can make a cure. We can settle our personal scores once humanity is saved.”

—

The air was thick with tension as Warren decided what the next move was.

La Reina had given your group two options. Either accept the bounty and go, or join the cartel and become a part of their society. Reluctantly, Warren agreed for you all to stay, as it was the safer option.

“All right,” La Reina said as she walked away. “We just have one test left.”

You let out a scream as a man placed a bag over your head and began dragging you backwards.

—

You felt sick to your stomach as you watched the bounty hunters above you placing bets. Hector had just explained to you that the final test was to see who the last man standing was, so your group was locked together in a small pit.

They had given you weapons to choose from. With not much of a choice left, you picked up two daggers and stood beside 10K. “Are you as scared as I am?”

You could hear the tremble in his voice as he spoke, but he lied anyway. “No, we’ve got this. We always find a way.”

Hector waves his hand for the cell door to be opened, “round one.”

A single Z appears, and Addy quickly stabs it in the head.

Hector nods, pretending to be impressed. “Okay, final round.” More than a dozen Z’s charge at the cell door, all snarling desperately to get through to the other side. “I’m going to do you a favour. To speed things up, why don’t we kill the lights? Las Luces.”

The lights went off as the door to the cell opened. The moment the Z’s poured in, the fight to survive started. You stabbed every Z that got close to you in the head. You could feel the blood and guts spattering over you but were pushed back by the urge to vomit.

When the lights came on, you were happy to see all your group unbitten. “It's a wonder you've lived this long. I could use zero’s like you.”

“Can I join your damn club now?” Warren spat.

“Just one more thing…”

—

You had expected La Reina to say you had more Z’s or with another person to join, but instead her final demand was to look the part.

You sat uncomfortably in a hairdressing chair while a man curled your hair. Makeup was applied to your face the minute after you came out of the shower, as well as having your clothes picked out for you.

A strapless brown leather dress was laid out on the bed, along with black heels. It wasn’t something you’d ever have chosen for yourself, nor was it practical for an apocalypse.

With no choice, you had to go along with La Reina's ridiculous make-up plan. When the hairdresser was finished, you were led into a room where your sister, Doc, and Warren were all ready to go.

“Damn Warren,” you said, noticing how low-cut her dress was at the chest. “I was more afraid to put this thing on the risk of being chased by Z's.”

When you fully entered the room, Doc wolf whistled at you while Addy’s jaw swung open. “You look good, Astra. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this dressed up before.”

“You too, your heels are very deadly.”

“At the very least, I can use it as a weapon,” she scrunched up her face at the large spikes protruding from her shoes. “I don’t like how shiny we all are.”

Vasquez entered the room next, and straight away his eyes traced every curve on Warren’s body. It was obvious he was starting to develop feelings for her.

“I feel weird,” 10K said, stepping in last. He paused when he noticed you, causing you to blush. His eyes linger on you, “wow.”

“10K roll your tongue back into your mouth,” Warren says, with a hint of amusement in her voice. “We gotta go find out what the hell is going on.”

—

You let out a huff as another bag was pulled off your head. Since your group was new and not fully trusted yet, you weren’t allowed to see where anything was.

You were led to a balcony that looked over a Day of the Dead themed party. Hector demanded the guests stop what they were doing as their queen approached. La Reina walked out to the balcony directly across the room with a red lace veil covering her face. She pulled it back once she had everyone’s attention, “My people, we have suffered for a very long time. Lives we once knew have been torn apart.”

You zoned out of her speech when you noticed Murphy dressed like a price sitting by the fireplace. Oh shit. Whatever was about to happen wasn’t going to be good.

A zero approach to your group with some of the weapons you came in with. “Tonight we make them one of us!” La Reina pointed over at you.

Warren nodded graciously as the crowd below cheered. She motioned for the rest of you to go look around.

You stood beside your sister at a window looking into the back garden. You noticed some of the cartel members hitting a Z that was hanging upside down with a stick blindfolded. “A zombie pinata? That’s vile. What are they expecting to get out of it?”

She frowned, “drugs.”

—

You jumped, feeling a hand resting on your back. “God, Tommy, you scared me.”

“My bad,” he smiled. “Astra, you honestly look…”

“Uncomfortable?”

He chuckles. “I was going to say beautiful, but your face looks extremely red. Why would anyone wear those deliberately?”

“All the women here are wearing heels,” you say quietly. “I think the queen likes her people to be dressed a certain way.”

“Why did we all need to get dressed though?" We aren’t her people.”

“Because we are her shiny new toys. Although, I’m guessing the women need to wear these outfits all the time to fit in.”

You kissed 10K on the lips, seeing him pout slightly. He didn’t like the idea of women being dressed up as objects either.

You smile when Doc walks over with a full plate of food, “You kids have got to try—what is she doing?”

You spin round to see Warren running across the room. Your eyes move to Vasquez, who is pointing a gun at Hector. Oh god, it’s him. He’s the one. The penny finally clicked for you and you realised Hector was the one who killed Vasquez's wife and daughter.

Warren knocks the gun out of Vasquez's hand and points it at him while three men grab him and pull him back.

The room fills with cheers of applause and victory as they mistakenly think Warren did that to save the queen of the dead.

—

“We gotta get out of here. Like now,” Doc says in a hushed tone.

“Yeah, we'll, if I knew what the hell was going on, I might have known what to do,” Addy says sharply. “How did Warren know what he was going to do?”

“He was going to kill Hector.”

“Kid, do you know something we don't?”

“I think so,” you said, looking around at the rest of the cartel. They were staring at the four of you. “I’ll fill you in when we get out of here.”

The music in the room stopped as Kurian approached the queen. “My queen, I have it. I have made the vaccine. The zombie plague is over. I’ve done it.”

You noticed the smug look on Murphy's face. Something wasn’t right.

“What have you done? Tell me!” La Reina demanded.

Kurian held up a small bottle of light pink liquid. “I present to you your H1Z1 vaccine. This serum makes the zombie virus impotent. Now a zombie bite will be like nothing and when you die you stay dead.”

“Show me, show me how this works.”

At his queen's command, Kurian turned to address the rest of the room, “I will just need a volunteer.”

When he smiled in your direction, Addy, Doc and 10K practically shoved you behind them. Kurian smirked and went to say something, but stopped when Hector entered the room with a prisoner.

“I've got the man for you, doctor Kurian,” he says, pushing Vasquez to his knees.

You let out a horrified gasp upon seeing the cuts and bruises that covered Vasquez's face and body.

You held your breath as you watched Vasquez being held in place as Dr. Kurian prepared to inject him with the vaccine.

#z nation #10k #10k x you #10k x reader #z nation fanfiction #z nation fandom #addy carver #addy carver sister #addy carver x reader #addy carver/you #10k z nation #z nation warren #addy z nation #z nation Vasquez #doc z nation #z nation 10k #roberta warren #murphy z nation #steven doc beck #inside outisde #z nation season two #z nation rewrite

[aceofwonders]

thinking about Ray getting separated from her found family 😢

tis ok though! she’s probably finding more with the party 😉

#aghjks #ray doesn't trust people easily but she's in it with the party and has no choice #but she did have a moment with both theo and deaneira that had her like 'ok i can do this' #even though she didn't trust sinai at the start she kinda does now #after the whole thing with phineas and them dying and all starting over again #also love thinking about the Trauma of them dying like #the whole time ray was Confused af and didn't understand like anything she saw or encountered #she was just rolling with it trying to find a way out #they survived so much shit #and then got faced with phineas #ray understood nothing he said and was letting others talk to him #then he KILLED two of them like instantly #and started talking to theo and her about taking them back to the start or whatever #and ray just full of fear and confusion refused to submit to whatever the fuck this guy was on about #she was gonna face death with her head held high #so she said 'nah son' and braced for it #im having feelings #but she came back!! #and is Pissed that it's not over #and Pissed to learn what happened to Theo with the memory thing #all the bullshit about everything being 'better' here #ray is Determined to get the fuck out let's go FAM #wow what a rant in the tags agjhk #LIZA i am so invested in this funky game #i am ready to fight so many things!! and die!! #nancy's d&d adventure #ch: ray iskaros #campaign: worldbreaker's maze

[maddiwrites]

Secrets of the Shore

Pairing: Pogues x OC, eventually JJ x OC

Summary: This is just my rewrite of the show Outer Banks with my own twist by adding another main character which also happens to be John B’s twin sister.

Note: Thank you so much for all the nice things you guys have said about chapter one! A couple people have asked to be tagged for every update so I started a tag list. If you would like to be tagged, please message me! I hope I got everyone who asked and if I didn’t please let me know. Next chapter, you’ll learn more about Marleigh and her personality so bare with me (: Gonna post updates every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday (:

Another Note: Apparently my hashtags didn’t work the last time so I’m reposting this. I don’t know what happened. Sorry! Let me know if they worked this time (:

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: None

Chapter One

I wake up to the rustling of John B walking through the Chateau, kicking over empty beer cans and muttering to himself. He mentions something about service, but I can barely understand through the fog in my own head that's still heavy with sleep.

"Yo, JJ," He says and I hear a slap against bare skin. "You been outside?"

"I have polio, bro," JJ grumbles into his pillow. "I can't walk."

I peek one eye open. The sunlight coming in through the window blinds me for a second. I'm curled into myself with my back to JJ. He's sleeping on his stomach, his left arm slung over my side.

I groan as I pull myself up and lean against the back of the couch. Stretching my arms, I turn to look out the window. Even with just a quick glimpse, I can see the mess in our back yard Hurricane Agatha made. A wash of frustration runs through me when I think about all the work we're going to have to do to clean it up. Not just here but on Figure Eight too. No way those Kooks get their hands dirty for this.

I swing my legs over the mattress and follow my brother outside after hearing JJ mumble something about me leaving. His morning voice sends a rush of warmth to my chest and I have to hold back the grin that's fighting it's way on my lips.

The first thing I see is the giant tree that now lays across our yard, ripped out of its roots. Had the wind been blowing the other way, it would have landed on our house and we would have been screwed.

"Damn," I whistle, still scanning the damage. John B's pulling branches out of the HMS Pogue. Somehow our small boat has managed to survive the storm. I look over to the chicken coop that's to the side of our home. The roosters are crowing which means they're alive too.

"Agatha did some work, huh?" JJ says from the porch door. He already has a beer in his hand as he studies our yard. I know he's already thinking about the labor he'll have to put into other people's yards too.

"Yeah, she did," My brother says, looking out into the water.

"What you thinking?"

John B looks back with a smirk on his lips. "I'm thinking that storm surge pushed all the crabs out on the marsh maze. All those drum are gonna chase the crab."

"What about the DCS? Wasn't that today?" JJ asks, looking between my brother and I.

He shakes his head. "Nah, they're not getting on a ferry." He hops down from the boat and approaches us. "Come on, think about it. It's God tellin' us to fish."

JJ smirks back at him. "Yeah."

"Let me get changed first," I tell them before turning back into my house.

No lights turn on when I flick the switch on my bedroom wall. Now I know what John B was muttering about when he first woke up. I pull up the blinds on my windows to let some kind of light through my room. Then I hold up two bathing suits in my mirror, trying to pick between the blue one or the floral one.

"I like the blue one," JJ says, welcoming himself into my room. I swivel around in surprise. I thought I locked my door. I glare at the intrusion but he ignores it, his smirk only growing. "Matches your eyes and if I remember correctly, the bottoms are more cheeky than the other ones."

I throw the floral bikini top in his direction, which he skillfully dodges. I don't know if it was JJ's opinion or if I was already leaning towards the blue bathing suit, but that's the one I choose.

As JJ ruffles through his duffel bag on my dresser, I go to the bathroom to change. I throw on another pair of jean shorts and a T shirt and follow the boys out to the dock where they're already getting the boat ready.

Its kind of routine when the Pogues have a boat day. We make our way through the marsh, first picking up Pope and then Kie, who will more than likely have a cooler packed with drinks and snacks. We'll stay on the water for hours, getting sunburnt and drunk until the sun goes down or one of us wants to go back to surf.

I look over the damage that Hurricane Agatha as tortured onto our side of the island. Everyone's yard looks just like mine. Fallen trees and branches litter their back yards. Some boats have sunken into the water, and not a single house looks like they have power.

"Good morning!" John B yells to the residents as we drive by. Always the friendly face he is.

"Sure hope Guffy's boat didn't sink," JJ says, standing on the front of the boat, looking into the yards. "He doesn't have insurance."

"Yeah."

"Hi, Miss Amy!" I wave to the woman raking the leaves and picking up sticks. She looks up at us and waves back, taking a break from the yard work. "You guys get through it?"

She motions to her yard and shrugs her shoulders. "Still here!"

She goes back to her yard work and JJ immediately turns around and looks at John B with a proud smile. "She totally looked at me."

"I saw it." John B smirks back, playing along.

I roll my eyes and lean further back into the boat, pulling my sunglasses over my eyes and muttering the word 'idiot.'

"Dude look at this place." JJ whistles. "Agatha what did you do?"

"She is a crazy lady."

"Hard-core Hurricane surge. We'll be cleaning this all summer."

"That's my nightmare."

"Well, look who we have here," JJ says, making me look up at the dock we're closely approaching.

I make my way to the front of the boat to stand next to JJ as we get closer to Pope's dock where he is standing with his father already on clean up duty.

John B talks into his shoulder like a cop radios his partners and changes his voice to sound like he's speaking through a megaphone. "We have a safety meeting. Attendance mandatory." He even mimics the static noise those horns make.

Pope looks at us defeated. "I can't. My pop's got me on lockdown."

"Come on, Pope!" I groan.

JJ does the same thing as John B and talks into his shoulder, using the same voice. "Your dad's a pussy. Over."

Heyward approaches the railing of his deck and points at JJ with a glare. "Oh, I heard that, you little bastard."

I can't help but laugh at the interaction.

"We need your son!" I add.

"Yeah, and island rule. Day after a hurricane's a free day," JJ says.

"Who made that up?" Heyward continues to glare at him.

"Uh, Pentagon, I think. We have security clearance." JJ pretends to check his pockets. "I have a card."

"Think I'm stupid?"

Pope turns to his father with pleading eyes. "I'll do it tomorrow. I promise. Tomorrow."

Immediately his father shakes his head. "You think - no. No." Pope looks at us, silently conflicted. "Hell no," His dad says, reading his son's face. "You doin' it right now."

Pope looks back at us. When he finds my eyes I nod my head and wave him closer to me. "Come on. Get in the boat."

"Make a run for it," JJ says too.

Heyward glares at us. "Boy if you get in that boat -"

Pope doesn't wait to hear the rest of that sentence. He's already taking off towards us. JJ's there, ready to help him in before his dad can catch up to him. I clap my hands and wrap my arms around his neck in a tight hug when he makes it in. John B immediately starts driving away.

"How does that feel?" JJ says.

Pope can't even enjoy the moment completely. His dad yells at us as we float away and he's waving to John B to drive faster. "Go, go, go, go."

"Bring your ass back up here!" Heyward continues to yell at us.

Pope turns to yell back at his dad. "I promise I'll do it tomorrow, Dad."

"You're gonna clean shrimp, clean fish -"

"Love you pops!"

"Love you pops!" I repeat, falling back in my seat at the end of the boat and laughing up at the sky.

"We'll bring him back in one piece!" John B yells. "I promise."

"And I don't like your friends!" Is the last thing we hear from him.

A couple minutes later, we're driving down Kook land. Kie is already at the edge of her dock, holding a cooler like I knew she would. Her curly brunette hair falls behind her shoulders. I wish I had hair like her's.

JJ walks to the side to help her in. He holds out his hand for her to take. "Oh, top o' the mornin' to ya."

"Good morning," She says, moving to the end of the boat to take a seat next to me.

"Morning," John B and I say.

"Whatcha got?" Pope asks her. "You got some juice boxes?"

"You know, just some yogurts and carrot sticks," She replies sarcastically, using her shoulder to shove me slightly when I scoff.

"How about my kind of juice box?" JJ says, falling on the seat on the other side of me.

"Yeah." Kie pulls out the bottles of beer and hands them out. The three of us cheer when we pop the cap off. I let the carbonated bread water, as I like to call it, slide down my throat. Beer always taste better in the boat in the summer.

John B and Pope switch seats, leaving Pope behind the wheel.

"Brace for impact," Pope says as he picks up speed now that we're past the 'No Wake' zone. My hair flies behind my shoulders as the wind rushes past me.

JJ stands up and holds out his hands in the air, basking in the breeze and morning sun. "Bet you can't do this. Party trick." I narrow my eyes at him, glaring through the beaming sun. "Hey, Pope. Can you go a little faster?"

"Here we go. I'm movin'," Pope says.

John B shakes his and watches JJ hold out the beer in front of his face. "Doesn't work."

"We've tried this like six thousand times," I say through my laugh. I look back down at Kie who is also rolling her eyes playfully.

"I got this. It's gonna work," JJ says.

JJ tilts the beer bottle towards his mouth letting the momentum and the wind pull the beer out of the bottle and splash on his face, barely hitting his open mouth like he intended it to. The excessive beer splashes down on mine and Kie's skin.

"You're getting beer in my hair!" Kie complains, moving to the other side of the boat next to John B.

JJ doesn't stop. He keeps moving his head to catch the liquid but he will never move fast enough to catch the mess he's creating.

"All right. All right. You're done." John B says.

"All right, stop!" Kie says, everyone somewhat annoyed that they're going to smell like beer for the next twelve hours.

Before JJ could even consider listening to any of us, the boat comes to a complete halt, jerking us forward and sending JJ flying off the boat. I slam onto the floor of the boat on my side. A small groan escapes my lips as a dull pain shoots through my hipbone.

"Jesus, Pope!" Kie yells. When I look up, she and John B are also on the floor. The steering wheel broke Pope's fall.

I pull myself up and fall back on my original seat. I twist my body around to look for JJ in the water. John B calls for him, asking if he's okay. His head peeks out from the water's surface and squints back at us with a grimace.

"I think my heels touched the back of my head."

I laugh at the exaggerated statement.

"Kie, Mar, you guys okay?" John B asks.

I look back to see Kie pulling herself off the ground and falling next to John B in the seat next to him. He rubs the skin on her back comfortingly. She smiles at him gratefully and nods her head. I keep my stare there for a few more long seconds. Recently Kie and John B have been hanging out more closely with one another. Obviously, they're best friends like the rest of us, but they're always picking the seat that's next to one another. Touches linger on the other's skin, and even Kie is laughing at John B's not so funny jokes.

"Pope what did you do?" JJ swims back to the boat.

"Sandbar," Pope says, looking out into the water. "Channel changed."

"No shit."

"This is probably gonna mess this whole place up," John B says.

"Hey, I saved the beer, though."

A sarcastic scoff blows past my lips and I shake my head. "Congrats, JJ."

"Guys..." I look back over at Pope who's fixated on something in the water as he stands on the side of the boat, unmoving. Barely blinking. "I think there's a boat down there."

"Shut up. What?"

"No way."

"No, no, guys. I'm serious. There's a boat down there," Pope says.

I follow the others to the side of the boat to find what Pope is staring at. I'm ready to tell Pope he's seeing things and needs to get a couple more hours of sleep, but to my surprise he is right. A couple feet below the murky water is the silhouette of an overturned boat.

"Guys...is this..." John B says slowly.

"It's a boat!" Kie says.

I'm the first one to start stripping out of my clothes, curiosity overwhelming me. I want to see what's down there...if someone is down there.

"Guys, wait up!" I hear Pope yell as soon as I dive into the water next to JJ.

I swim deeper into the water, ignoring the thudding pain in my ears as I sink further into the marsh. The salt water slightly stings my eyes, but it isn't anything I'm not already use to. You kind of get use to it after wiping out in the ocean every time you surf.

The boat's bigger than the water's surface made it out to be. I don't think it's real until I feel the smooth exterior under my fingertips. I push myself a little deeper before I run out of air. I try looking through the open bars into the driver's seat. A part of me is afraid of what I might see, but I have to know. I have to make sure there's no one in here. Trapped and decaying all alone. My biggest fear is that my dad is somewhere in the middle of the ocean submerged in that same position.

However, I'm relieved when I don't see a dead body floating around the steering wheel.

When I feel my chest tighten, I push myself up to the surface. I gasp for air the second the cool breeze hits my face.

"You guys saw that?" JJ pants.

"Yeah!"

"Yeah I did!"

"Yeah!"

We swim back to the boat. John B climbs up first then holds out his hand for me to take. JJ is right behind me and pulls himself up.

"See?" He smirks at me when John B moves to help Pope and Kie up the boat. "Cheeky."

I shove his chest back with two hands. He falls back into the seat I had originally occupied, laughing to himself. I roll my eyes and throw my jean shorts back on when my legs are dry.

I both love it and hate it when JJ makes comments like that. It makes my heart flutter every time and fireworks explode in my stomach. But every euphoric feeling I get dissipates within seconds when I remember that the two of us will never happen. Because he's my brother's best friend. Because he's my best friend. And I can't ruin that like I ruin everything else in my life.

JJ turns to the rest of our friends and runs his fingers through his wet and tangled hair. "That's a Grady-White. A new one of those is like 500 Gs, easy. That's a primo rig."

"Yeah. That's the boat we saw when we surfed the surge." John B says, catching my attention. "Maybe it hit the jetty or something."

The memory of last night sprints to the front of my brain. The boat. I should have expected it to sink, but shouldn't have someone been behind the wheel? Whoever it was, I hope they made it out alive. I can't help but feel a small sliver of hope for that person since I didn't find them trapped inside the boat. With that sliver of hope came the reminder of my dad's disappearance like a slap in the face. Maybe if something had happened to him, he could have made it out alive too.

No. He is dead, I tell myself.

"You surfed the surge?" Kie's voice brings me out of my head. Her voice is strong and laced with disapproval.

"That's my boy. Pogue style!" JJ cheers.

"Why are you only looking at me? It was Marleigh's idea!" John B points an accusatory finger my way, hoping to take some of the blame off of motherly Kie.

Kie turns to glare at me. "What the heck?"

"Pope was there too!" I follow John B's lead by pointing my finger at someone else. This in return earns Pope a glare from our curly brunette friend.

"They guilted me into it! Said if they didn't have another pair of eyes, they'd probably drown and no one would be there to save them," Pope says with a glare. "They're lucky I was there. I was the one who saw Mar go under."

"I was fine!" I roll my eyes at Pope's dramatized version of events.

"Wait, wait." JJ interrupts the bickering. "Do we know whose boat that is?"

John B shakes his head and walks to the back of the boat where JJ and I are standing. "No, but we're about to find out."

"Dude, it's too deep."

"Oh, for the weak and feeble, JJ."

JJ makes his way to the opposite side of boat next to Kie and Pope. He digs into the cooler for another beer and takes a long swig. "Well, I'm not resuscitating you. I'm just making that clear up front."

John B pulls the anchor up and untangles it from the chains. "That's fine." He holds the anchor close to his chest, using the extra weight to drag him down further into the water. He catches Kie's disappointed glare and sighs. "What?"

Pope looks between the two and brings his hand up as a salute to my brother. "Diver down, fool."

John B nods. "Diver down."

JJ walks up to him and shoves him in the water by his chest before he can change his mind. "Yeah, he is."

John B's body disappears behind the muddy water. No one says anything as we wait. Kie bounces anxiously next to me on her toes. Her hands grip the edge of the boat until her knuckles turn white. I want to say something to her, to make her relax, but I don't want to embarrass her in front of the other two idiots on the boat.

"Should we go get him?" Pope asks after it's been a minute.

Before Kie can jump into the water, John B resurfaces, coughing water out of his mouth.

"Oh my God." Kie scowls. "That took forever."

I shake my head with a small smile on my lips and take the anchor from his hands.

"Any dead bodies?" Pope asks.

"Looting potential?" JJ follows up.

John B pulls himself into the boat. I hand him a towel.

"No. No." He shakes his head but holds something small in his hand. "But I found this motel key."

"A key," Pope says with no emotion, clearly not as excited as John B.

"Yeah, a key, Pope."

"Great!" JJ snags the key out of his hand and looks at it. "We salvaged a motel key."

"Guys, we should report the wreck to the coast guard," Kie says.

I agree with Kie. "Maybe we'll get a finder's fee."

"Yeah and not work all summer," JJ says. "Thanks Agatha, ya batch."

John B drives us back to the shore, but we don't go to the Chateau. We go to the coast guard to report the boat.

I'm not surprised to see the coast guard's post surrounded with people, shouting complaints and concerns. There is no designated line for people to professionally line themselves up. At least, if there is, no one is following the order.

I decide to wait with Pope and Kie in the boat while John B and JJ try to report the sunken boat. I rest my legs on the cooler and bask in the late morning sun with the spare couple of seconds I have in silence.

However those seconds are short-lived when I feel someone kick my legs off the cooler, almost knocking me off my seat.

"What the -"

Then I feel an upward slap to the back of my head. "The surge!"

"Ow, Kie!"

"You could have died out there!"

"But I didn't." I offer a guilty smile. When she doesn't smile back, I sigh and sit myself up straighter. "It's fun, Kie. You'll never know until you try it. You should come out with us next time."

"Your brother would have never let you do it, let alone join you."

Her words make me pause. It's true John B use to be more responsible. Out of the two us, he was always the one to keep us both in line. Sometimes he would be like a second father to me. He always protected me, bandaged me up, and took the fall for mistakes I made. Now he is following in my footsteps. Taking more risks with an act-now-think-later mentality. All of our friends know he's doing this to deal with our dad's disappearance. Unlike Kie, I don't think what he's doing is wrong. He's having more fun, and he's not going to kill himself doing it.

It's better than what I was doing when I tried forgetting about what might of happened to my dad.

The boys return with blank faces. I can already tell that the coast guards couldn't care less about their problem, let alone if they even listened.

"Well, that went well," John B says.

"So what's the plan?" I ask, ignoring Kie's deadly stare on the side of my head.

"I know how we're gonna find the guy who owns that boat." John B holds up the key with a mischievous smirk.

"We don't know who's room that is." Pope is quick to try to stop him. "It could be anyone."

Shockingly, Kie doesn't take Pope's side. She slaps her hands to the back of his shoulders and giggles. "Come on. I'll be lookout."

After JJ unties the boat from the dock, John B steers the boat in the direction of the motel.

"Finder's fee," John B shrugs. "Just saying."

"And hey, at least you'll only be an accomplice," JJ says as he stands next to John B, smirking down at a disapproving Pope.

"Man," Pope complains.

"Come on, bubba," John B laughs.

A couple minutes later, we pull up to the dock outside the motel, in front of the parking lot. I've seen run down motels before, but this one looks like it could be used in a horror movie. The wooden siding is peeling off, littering the pavement below. The railing on the balcony looks less than stable, most slabs even missing.

JJ whistles. "I thought the Chateau looked bad."

"This place is a shit show," John B agrees.

"Motel or meth lab?" Kie says.

"You be the judge," says Pope.

"Doesn't look like a place somebody with a Grady-White stays," I say, confused as to why a man living here had a boat as expensive as the one we found.

"No. Looks like a place someone with a Grady-White would get killed," Pope says.

JJ walks to the edge of the boat to tie us to the dock. I come up behind him to help.

"This is your captain speaking. HMS Pogue comin' in for landing," JJ announces.

"We good?" John B asks as I tie the last knot.

"Yeah, we good," JJ replies.

I get out of the boat first and flip my sunglasses on top of my head. There's only two cars in the parking lot, which is good news. Less chances of us getting caught.

"All right. Here goes nothin'," John B says, hopping out of the boat next to me. JJ follows.

As we turn to walk away, Pope calls out for us to stop. "Hey!"

"Yeah?" John B asks.

"Don't let them do anything stupid," He tells my brother, nodding towards JJ and I with his head. I stick my tongue out at him but he doesn't acknowledge it.

JJ wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into his side. "Oh, we will."

I laugh and shove him off of me.

John B laughs too before turning to Pope. "I'm not making any promises."

"Yeah I know," Pope finally sighs.

"Hey!" Kie walks to the side of the boat that's next to the dock. Neither John B or Kie say anything for a moment. They both just stand there, looking at each other for about two seconds too long. If I were any closer, I'd be able to see them blushing like crazy. "Uh, be careful." She looks over his shoulder at JJ and I who are watching them with raised brows and amused expressions. "I mean it."

"Yeah," John B chuckles and follows JJ and I out to the stairs that will bring us to the second floor of the motel.

The smell of the motel is almost as bad as it looks. Like a sweat box drenched in urine with a hint of cigarette smoke. Stacked on the side of the building near every room is a bare mattress, not one of them without a yellow or brown stain.

"Why are all these mattresses out?" I ask.

"After a hurricane, they ditch 'em 'cause they're moldy," JJ answers me before turning to slap his hands on John B's shoulders. He raises his voice an octave higher to mimic Kie and pretends to fawn over him. "Just be so careful, John."

John B pushes him away and rolls his eyes. "God, you're so weird."

"What was that about?" JJ continues.

"I don't know. Maybe she wants us to be careful." My brother plays dumb. It makes me roll my eyes. I don't know if he's just trying to avoid the conversation or if he's just that blind.

"Since she heard you're being threatened with exile, she's just been, like -" Again JJ raises his voice and clings onto John B's arm. "Oh be careful John B."

John B pushes him off again. "Get off."

JJ continues, "Oh, give me that John D already." He drops his voice back to normal. "When are you gonna swoop on that, man?"

I roll my eyes and lead the way. Most of the curtains are pulled down on every window. The doors lining the walls look thin enough that I could fall through them and accidentally whip them open. Even the wood I'm standing on doesn't seem sturdy enough. I feel like I'm going to fall through it with every step.

"Bro, you know the rule. No pogue-on-pogue macking."

"Yeah, trust me. I know that rule."

I look over my shoulder at the blonde boy, only to find him staring straight back at me. He quickly winks at me before I turn back around. Something flutters in my stomach.

"You're the one always hitting on her," John B retaliates.

"Of course I'm always hitting on her," JJ says. And just like that, the flutters are gone and replaced with something that more resembles nausea. "She's a super-hot, rich, hippie chick slumming with us. Why? I can't figure it out either, but who cares, bro? I know that door's locked because I've tried it. Have you?"

"You need help."

"You both need help," I say, keeping my eyes on the numbers on each door. We're getting close.

"Not a little help, you need a lot of help," John B continues, ignoring me completely. "It's like every girl who just has a heartbeat, you're like...'Uhh.'"

We finally reach room twenty nine and I turn to look at the two knuckleheads with a glare. I love being their friend and all but sometimes the bro talk needs to stay within the bros.

"What? It's not a big deal," JJ says more to me than John B which only makes me roll my eyes more. "You do the same thing."

"Shut up. This is us. Twenty-nine," I say.

JJ sighs and walks to the other side of me to peek into the window. When he doesn't see anything he knocks on the door. In an even higher pitched voice he says, "Housekeeping." I look behind us to make sure no one is looking.

"Should we try it?" John B asks.

"Yeah," JJ and I say at the same time, taking a step back so John B can use the key to let us in.

"No power. No security cameras. No one's gonna know," JJ says as a final push to invade this guy's privacy and ransack his room. Find out why he has a Grady-White and how we can get equally as lucky.

The door opens with a loud creak. The inside looks just as bad as the outside. Musty, dirty, and smells like the actual housekeepers haven't visited for weeks. Maybe months. As suspected the power is out and the windows are so dirty that barely any natural light can peek through them.

On the full size bed is a small green duffel bag and a pack of cigarettes. Next to it is a pillow I would not trust laying my head. Dirty laundry surrounds it on the floor and if I listen closely, I'm pretty sure I can hear a mouse squeaking away in a corner.

"Check the bag. See if there's a name on there somewhere," John B tells me.

I grimace as I reach my hand below the zipper. I don't know what I'm going to find in there but my mind immediately thinks there's a severed head laying in the bag. In a motel like this, the idea isn't far fetched. But instead, I pull out a coat.

"A jacket," I tell them. Nothing special but at least it's not a head.

John B holds up a pair of shoes. "Denim slides."

I look at the tag and run my fingers through the pockets. There's nothing that tells me who it belongs to. "No name on the jacket."

"It's a nice jacket though," JJ says, walking up next to me and taking it from my hands to look at it. "Definitely over 50."

John B holds up another pair of shoes. "He's got New Balances."

JJ finds a small map on the night stand and holds it out to the light. "Yo, dude, come here. Maybe this is where they were fishing."

John B grabs the map to look at it. "Let me see."

"Right there." JJ points at the part that's circled in red pen.

"No, that's off the continental shelf. That's Big Swell. Nobody fished there."

John B tucks the map in his back pocket and moves to the other side of the room. He picks up a cup and sniffs it, immediately pulling it away with a cringe. "Coffee?" He offers me the mug.

"Yeah," I reply sarcastically, turning away to shuffle through the random pieces of paper on the nightstand. Just a couple of receipts from the donut shop down the street. Nothing that has a name on it. Plus a piece of paper that has random numbers on it.

"Standard. Tissues when you get lonely," JJ says from the bathroom, tossing anything that seems invaluable over his shoulder into the dirty bath tub behind him. "Oh!"

"What?" I look up at him, hopeful that he found something that we actually came looking for. Although, I don't really know what that is yet. "Did you find anything?"

"A really awesome Dopp kit your brother won't let me steal."

John B smirks at him. "Yeah, 'cause we're not stealing shit."

JJ groans and throws the kit over his shoulder with the other crap he's not taking.

John B opens the cabinet under the TV stand. He drops to his knees when he finds a small safe with a padlock protecting it. I walk up behind him and squat next to him, narrowing my attention at the codes he's trying. I roll my eyes at the first one. "One-one-one-one." The safe beeps at the incorrect password. Then he tries "One-one, one, two." Again the safe beeps at us three times.

"Punching shit at random. That will...definitely work," JJ says behind us. He bends down to pull the map back out of John B's pocket to look at it.

"Wait a second," I say, turning back to the nightstand with the paper that had the four random numbers on it. It suddenly makes sense. "Here."

"I don't know. I don't know about the second one," JJ says, more to himself because John B and I are more focused on the safe. "These coordinates, they...wait. My cousin said you could catch swordfish here."

"Six, one, six, six, six," John B mutters to himself.

"Six, six, six. That can't be a good sign," I say.

"Nah, that wouldn't make any sense," JJ shakes his head to himself. "What about a surf spot?"

The safe's lock clicks instead of beeps at us. The metal door pops open, inviting us in. John B looks at me with a proud and giddy grin. I can't help but let out a breathy laugh and open the safe completely.

"Holy shit," John B curses when we finally see what's in the safe. My eyes grow wide at what we find. Stacks of one hundred dollar bills and a gun. The find only confuses me more. If this guy had money like this, why was he staying here? "Uh...JJ."

"Hm?" JJ finally hums after having a long conversation with himself.

"You're gonna want to see this," I say, smirking up at him.

I stand up from my spot so JJ could get a good look. He crouches down next to my brother and the smile on his face is similar to a child on Christmas morning.

He reaches in and instead of grabbing the money, he grabs the gun. I can't say I'm surprised. This is JJ we're talking about.

"You grabbed the gun," John B scoffs but can't hide the grin on his face.

"This is a SIG Sauer!" JJ exclaims, holding it up in the air and admiring it.

"Put the gun back, JJ," John B says.

"This is a fucking spendy gatt, man. Just..." JJ points the gun in front of him and pretends to fire it. "Bam! Bam!" I duck out of the way. I know he's just pretending but I wouldn't be surprised if he accidentally shot it because he was too excited. "Bam! Bam!"

"Jesus JJ," I hiss. "Quit it."

"Hey, think about it! Bam! Bam!"

"We're not stealing anything," John B says.

"Just take a pic of me. Right here," JJ holds the gun to his chest and points it up at the ceiling, posing with it.

"You want me to take a picture of you?" I purse my lips and raise one brow at him.

"Yeah, like..."

"Make our own incriminating evidence? Is that what you're talking about?"

A light tapping from the back window stops us all from our tiny bickering match. All three of our heads turn to the window, confused.

"Wait what was that?" John B says first.

JJ and I follow him to the window. He pulls the curtain to the side and presses his face against the dusty glass. Pope and Kie are jumping up and down and waving their hands like two idiots and pointing at a car parked in the lot. Their voices come through the glass quietly, but just loud enough for us to hear them say, "Cops! Cops! Cops!"

"Shit," John B pushes off the window.

"What is it?" JJ asks.

"Cops."

On cue, there's knocks coming from the other side of the door. "Kildare County Sheriff's Department!"

"Shit," I curse to myself and push myself in front of the boys. The only way we are getting out is through the window. JJ and John B climb out first. JJ holds out his hand for me to take right as the door knobs squeaks.

The jump is too high. All three of us would break our ankles if we tried. The only option we have is to stick it out on the roof and hope the cops don't look out the window.

The roof is small since the window sits on the side of the building. The only way the three of us will fit is if I'm pressed against the siding with JJ pressed behind me. Which is the exact position we're in. My right foot dangles off the side of the roof to make as much room for JJ as I can so we're as flat against the building as possible. I can hear his racing heart against my back and I can't help but wonder if it's from the adrenaline rush of being caught by the cops or being pressed up against me.

I know why my heart's beating like mad.

I try to even my breathing so I can listen in on what's happening inside. The cops' voices are muffled through the walls. I glance at John B who is trying to peek inside. His brows furrow together in confusion at what he's seeing. When he looks up at me, I mouth "what" but he only shakes his head.

JJ tries to shuffle around his footing, which only makes him fumble more and lose his balance. I can't help the gasp that escapes my mouth. I grip on to both JJ and the corner of the wall so neither one of us fall. Unfortunately, as I try to save both of our lives, the gun slips out of JJ's pocket and creates an even bigger scene.

I squeeze my eyes tight and press myself deeper into the rotting wooden siding of the motel, praying that the police think it was only a bird or a squirrel. When I peek one eye open, I see John B grimacing against the building too. He shakes his head again for me and JJ not to move.

Minutes feel like hours as we wait, but eventually we hear the door close and the voices of the police officers on the balcony outside.

I exhale a deep breath and just about dive back into the room head first.

The boys follow me out the door the cops just walked out of and we meet Kie and Pope back at the boat. When they see us approaching, they both let out a sigh of relief.

"Well, that was fun," JJ says as we step back into the boat. My safe spot with nothing but water if we fall off.

"Could have warned us sooner," John B says lightly.

Kie rolls her eyes. "We would have except Pope was on the math team."

JJ turns to look at our geeky friend. "You were on the math team?"

"The cops took everything," John B says before another bickering fest could erupt between JJ and Pope. I turn to look at John B. That's what he must've seen in the room. "Like it was a crime scene."

"Did you guys find anything?" Pope asks.

"Did we find anything?" JJ says with a smirk. "No I don't think so." He holds up the gun and a stack of one hundred dollar bills. His smile grows wider. "Oh, yeah, we did."

Of course he stole them.

Pope and Kie jump up from their seats and look at JJ like he's grown two heads.

"What the hell?" Pope says in awe.

"What the hell?" Kie scowls.

"Dude, chill. Come on," JJ says, relaxed.

"Why take that from a crime scene?" Kie asks. She looks at me for some kind of explanation but I only shrug in response. I don't know what goes on in JJ's head.

JJ shrugs. "Better than cops having it."

"You serious?" Kie looks at John B who only gives her the same response I do.

Pope sits back down with his head in his hands. "I'm going to lose my merit scholarship."

JJ walks over to him and wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind him. "Hey, hey, shh, shh, shh. At least you have us, right?"

"I'm living the nightmare."

I laugh at Pope's theatrics even though I know he's genuinely worried about losing his scholarship - the only thing he has that will get him off of this damn island and make a name for himself. A selfish part of me hopes he loses the scholarship so he's forced to stay here with the rest of us, but I know that will never happen. Pope is the smartest guy I know and deserves to go off to a fancy college and be successful. The scholarship is going to give him that out we all desperately want. He's not going to lose that scholarship. I've already made sure so.

He just doesn't know it.

~ ~ ~

We dock our boat in town to grab something to eat before going back to my house. I am craving fish tacos and no one is going to stop me from getting them. As we wait outside with a couple other kids I recognize from school a couple years younger than us, paramedics and cop cars show up. Another boat pulls into the dock. A coast guard. Four men haul a stretcher off of it and wheel it up to the waiting ambulance. A sheet is drawn over the body so I can't see who it is but a sick thought races through my mind.

"Who's that?" John B asks the girl sitting near us.

"It's Scooter Grubbs. He was out during the storm," She says. I ignore the look John B casts my way and look at the girl's phone as she holds it out to us. "Check out this pic I got." She smiles sickly at it. "Dead body."

"Insane," I mumble, suddenly feeling sick and not in the mood for fish tacos.

"Holy shit." My brother says.

"What kind of boat did he have?" JJ asks her.

She puts her phone away. "Somehow, that dirtbag copped a brand new Grady-White. Everyone's out looking for it."

As soon as Kie walks out of the store carrying our food, we book it out of there. JJ tells her what happened on the ride back to the Chateau as I sit and think about how screwed we are if we get caught with the gun and money. They might think we killed him!

"So, um...we didn't see anything," Pope says as we walk into the Chateau. "We don't know anything. We need to have total and complete amnesia."

I fall on my couch and lean forward, biting my nails until I reach the nub - a nervous habit of mine. The smell of my tacos makes me queasy. They could have been swimming near that dead body yesterday. Who knows.

"Actually Pope's right for once," JJ says, plopping down on the seat next to me. He takes my hand away from my mouth and leans into the side of the couch, still staring at Pope who looks at him with raised brows. "See, I agree with you sometimes. Deny, deny, deny."

"Guys, we can't keep that money," Kie says.

"Okay, not all of us can afford unlimited data plans, Kie," JJ says which only makes Kie's scowl deepen.

"We have to pass that off to Lana Grubbs," Kie continues. "Otherwise, it's bad karma."

"Bad karma to be implicated in a felony, too," Pope adds. "We gotta go dark."

JJ shrugs. "If that means we get to keep the money, then I agree."

"I don't agree," John B finally pipes up and looks between all of us.

"What? Why?"

"Just think about it," John B says. "This is Scooter Grubbs we're talking about. Same dude that's buying individual cigarettes at the Porthole. Shit, one time I saw this dude begging for change in the Save-A-Lot parking lot because he needed gas. We're talking about a dirtbag marina rat who's never had more than forty bucks in his pocket, and all of a sudden, he's got a Grady-White?" He shrugs and holds out his hands in surrender. "Just saying."

I don't know what to think but I'm leaning towards JJ's idea. We should keep our mouths shut but roll around in the money that we risked our lives for. Finder's keepers isn't just a saying that dies when you've reached your teenage years.

John B continues, "All right, so think about it Pope. How does a marina rat get a Grady-White?"

Pope inhales sharply. "Prostitution."

"Square groupers, bro," John B says. He looks at JJ who will understand where he is coming from. "Okay, flying under the radar, no aerial surveillance. They don't do that stuff during a hurricane. What does that mean? JJ?"

JJ smirks. "They were straight smugglin'."

John B snaps his finger that's pointing at JJ, "Smuggling. And I guarantee there's a serious amount of contraband in that wreck."

"Hell yeah!" JJ stands up and slaps John B's hand in the Pogue handshake. "Fish on!"

Pope speaks up, "For the record, if that is a smuggling ship with illegal contraband on the inside of it...it probably belongs to someone else."

"Minor details."

"They could come looking for it," I say, not exactly taking Pope's side but just mentioning the risk so that everyone knows what we're up against. We don't know what kind of people could be looking for this shit too.

Pope nods. "Taking it would be catastrophically stupid."

JJ bends down so he's face to face with Pope and holds out the money in front of his face. "Right. Well, stupid things have good outcomes all the time."

"I wouldn't say all the time," I say, grinning when JJ looks over his shoulder to glare at me.

"All we need to do is figure out a way to get into the cargo hold of that wreck. Until then, we just lay low. Just act normal."

"Right. And how exactly do we do that?" Pope says.

When his eyes meet mine, a light bulb ignites in my head. My frown is turned upside down into a smile and I lean forward so everyone can see how exciting I am.

"Kegger?"

Tag List: @notyourcupofteax @acvross-the-universe @jjmaybankzz​ @jeeperky​ @realistic-breadstick​

#jj maybank fic #jj x reader #jj fic #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank imagines #outer banks rewrite #outer banks imagine #john b routledge #outer banks #outer banks fic #outer banks imagines #kiara carrera #kie carrera #pope heyward

[petersasteria]

The Best Day - Haz Osterfield

Osterfield || Main || Taglist

Pairing: Single Dad!Haz x Step mom!Reader Requested? Nah. 2,572 words Happy Mother's Day to all x

Italics are flashbacks, bold is Christine singing, and [ ] is a 'video'. Thank you to @capwogers for telling me I should do mom!reader instead of sister!reader.

* * * *

When Harrison had his daughter, his first born, he never would’ve thought that his life was going to change. Suddenly his life was colorful and filled with laughter. Sure, it was hectic, but he loved every second of it. As if it wasn’t enough, he was blessed with a son five years later. His life was perfect.

As far as good things go, bad things happen. Harrison’s partner suddenly left. They weren’t married, but it seemed that way. They lived together and they’ve been together for a long time, but after their son’s second birthday, she decided she didn’t want to ‘play house’ anymore. It hurt him, but he knew he had to be strong for his kids.

Three years later, he met you. He was scared that his kids would scare you off, but it was the opposite. He watched as you tried to interact with them and he saw how his kids didn’t warm up to you. He frowned, but he knew that in time, they’ll like you.

Christine, his thirteen-year-old daughter, didn’t seem very fond of you. Meanwhile his eight-year-old son, Ethan, was the opposite. You two would get ice cream together and he’d always kiss your cheek whenever he’d see you. He was also the only person excited when Harrison told them that you’d move in with them.

You could still remember Christine being so mad about it. She was glaring at you and you told her, “I know I’m not your mom and I’m not trying to be her, but I want you to know that I’m here for you. I love your father and I love you guys too. No matter how mad you are at me, I won’t leave.”

And you didn’t. Harrison proposed to you after being together for three years. You both knew that you both were meant for each other and you knew it was going to be hard because you felt like Christine will never get used to you being around, but you were proved wrong when the day of your wedding came.

You got married on Mother’s Day and yours and Harrison’s mom absolutely cried so much because they claimed that it was the best gift they’ve ever received. Everyone at the reception was busy eating when the host, Tom, started talking again.

“Hi, everyone! I’m sorry to interrupt.” Tom chuckled. “But someone wanted to take this time to give their ‘special gift’.” He looked at Christine with a smile and waved her over to where he was standing.

“What’s she doing?” Harrison whispered in your ear and you just shrugged. You both watched as Tom adjusted the mic to Christine’s height and Harrison could see the fear on his daughter’s face, but when he smiled at her, her fears disappeared and she calmed down.

“I, uh, I want to say Happy Mother’s Day to everyone here.” Christine said nervously as she played with her fingers. “Most of all, I want to say Happy Mother’s Day to my dad because ever since mom left, he’s been acting as a mother and a father to me and Ethan. I also want to greet Y/N a Happy Mother’s Day too because she’s pretty cool for taking care of us when daddy’s busy.” She added as she looked at you with an innocent look on her face.

“I, uh, I have something prepared for both of you. It’s my wedding gift. I’ve been taking secret singing and guitar lessons for this.” She mentioned before looking behind her to see Tom lending her his guitar.

Tom stood back with Ethan and Christine started playing a familiar tune, “I dedicate this song to my dad and Y/N.” Then she began to sing.

I'm five years old, it's getting cold, I've got my big coat on I hear your laugh and look up smiling at you, I run and run Past the pumpkin patch and the tractor rides Look now, the sky is gold I hug your legs and fall asleep on the way home

“Nina, be careful!” Harrison shouted as he watched his little one run. Both of them were at a farm and he thought it was a good idea to spend some extra time Christine; just the two of them. Harrison knew that she won’t be five years old forever and he knew that once his son was born, he wouldn’t spend time with Christine as much anymore.

“Daddy, look at the pumpkins!” Christine stopped running and stared at the pumpkins. Harrison smiled to himself and jogged over to where she was.

“Wanna see the farm animals, love?” He asked sweetly. She looked at him with a bright smile and nodded quickly.

After a full day of spending time with farm animals and getting to pick some fresh fruits, Christine grew tired and it was then that Harrison knew it was time to go home. He carried her to his car and buckled her in her car seat.

Her eyes fluttered open slightly and smiled at him. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart. We’ll be home soon.” Harrison smiled and kissed her forehead.

“I love you, daddy.” She said before drifting off to sleep. He didn’t want to tell anyone, but he cried on the drive home. Those four words were enough to make him cry and he wanted to cherish them before she grew up.

Christine sang the chorus beautifully and you could see that Harrison was crying. You held his hand and rested your head on his shoulder.

I'm thirteen now And don't know how my friends could be so mean I come home crying and you hold me tight and grab the keys And we drive and drive until we found a town far enough away And we talk and window shop 'til I've forgotten all their names

I don't know who I'm going to talk to now at school But I know I'm laughing on the car ride home with you Don't know how long it's going to take to feel okay But I know I had the best day with you today

You were feeling a bit sick and you decided it was best to stay at home. You still did work in yours and Harrison’s shared bedroom. It was only you in the house and you heard the door open and get slammed shut. Heavy footsteps were running up the stairs and straight into a room. The door was slammed shut too.

You took a deep breath and checked the time on your phone to see who was home at this time. It was Christine. Knowing that she wasn’t particularly fond of you, you braced yourself before going to her room to check up on her.

You knocked and heard a muffled ‘go away’ from her. You shook your head and knocked again and said, “It’s me, Y/N. I just wanted to check up on you. Are you okay? You sounded really mad when you came home.”

In Christine’s mind, she knew she didn’t have a choice. She needed to talk to someone and you happened to be home. Perhaps it wasn’t so bad, right? She wiped her tears and got up to open the door. You frowned at the sight and immediately pulled her in for a hug.

She hugged back and cried. She opened up to you about her mean friends and you just listened. When she was done, you wiped her tears and said, “My friends did the same thing, you know.”

“Really?” She sniffed and you nodded with a small smile on your face. “What happened?” She asked.

“We’re not friends anymore. It hurt a lot, but I got new friends and they’re way better than my old ones. We’re still friends up to this day. You’ll have new friends too, I promise you that. They’ll be better and your friendship will last.” You smiled, causing her to smile too.

“How about we go out? We can get ice cream and eat dinner. I can call your dad and tell him to pick up Ethan.” You suggested. Christine thought about it for a second and she nodded and pushed away her long blonde hair from her face.

“We can get a makeover too, if you want.” You added and she squealed excitedly.

“Daddy never allowed me to have makeovers.” Christine said. “He said I was too young.”

“Well, lucky for you, I’m not your dad.” You winked. “I’ll let you get dressed and we can go, alright?”

“Alright.” She smiled and turned to go further in her room. Before she closed the door, she called your name and you turned around. “Thank you… and call me Nina. Christine is too long.” She said with a sincere look on her face.

“It’s no problem. I’m on your side, Nina. Never forget that.” You smiled.

Later that night when you and Christine got home, the boys were on the couch and gasped when they saw you and Christine sporting your new looks. You dyed your hair while Christine had a new haircut. You even allowed her to pick out clothes that she liked and bought it for her. You never splurged, but you figured it was okay to splurge just for once.

“Why don’t you show Ethan what you got him?” You told Christine and she quickly went to the couch to show Ethan the stuff she picked for him. Harrison got up from the couch and walked over to you, “I thought you never splurged.” He joked.

“I never splurge on anything, but I made an exception. She was upset about something and I wanted to make her feel better.”

“By buying her stuff?”

“No, by making her happy and by distracting her. We window shopped first and she narrowed down what she really wanted. Then, we bought them. The things she bought Ethan came from her own money.”

Harrison nodded with a smile, “Thank you for making her happy.”

“It’s no big deal.” You shrugged. “I went through the same thing and no one was there for me. I want to be there for her.”

I have an excellent father, his strength is making me stronger

Christine saw the whole scene the night her mother left. She saw how upset and sad Harrison was while he carried her two-year-old brother. He turned around and saw Christine sitting on the steps.

He didn’t know what to say. “Darling, I-” Harrison was lost and he held back his tears.

“Are we going to be okay, daddy?” She asked as she cried.

He nodded and sat next to her with Ethan in his arms. “We’ll be fine. We’re gonna be okay, I promise you that.” Harrison smiled at her and put his arm around her shoulder. That night, Christine and Ethan slept in the same bed as Harrison, so he wasn’t lonely.

Harrison never knew, but Christine would hear him cry himself to sleep at night and she would notice the tear stains on his cheeks whenever he made breakfast. It was then that Christine realized how strong Harrison was and that she wanted to be just as strong as he was.

God smiles on my little brother, inside and out He’s better than I am

Christine took a long time to get used to you, but she noticed how Ethan immediately let you in without hesitation. He always tagged along with you wherever you went and it made Harrison a bit jealous that Ethan preferred you over him, but it made Harrison happy.

Ethan even helped you in the garden, something he never did. But Ethan’s favorite moment with you is when he would sit on the kitchen countertop and help you bake cookies for every occasion.

I grew up in a pretty house and I had space to run And I had the best days with you

Christine stopped playing and looked on the projector to play an old video of hers. Harrison was filming and he laughed when he saw the video.

“I remember that video.” He laughed as he reminisced.

[“What’re you painting, Nina?” Harrison asked as he filmed Christine painting. He smiled when she looked at him with a toothy grin, “Flowers!”

“Those are pretty flowers, baby.” Harrison complimented. “You’re beautiful like a flower as well.”

“Thank you, daddy. You’re beau’ful too.” Christine smiled at him, causing Harrison to laugh. It was silent between them, but she broke it. “Can I be a flower for Halloween?”

Harrison chuckled and said, “I’ll see what I can do. I might need your mum for some help. She knows more about flowers than I do.”

“Otay!” Christine giggled and continued painting.]

There is a video I found from back when I was three You set up a paint set in the kitchen and you’re talking to me It’s the age of princesses and pirate ships and the seven dwarves

After the video, it showed a slideshow of pictures. The first picture was her on Halloween dressed as a flower. Every other kid was a monster or a superhero, but she was different. Needless to say, she went home with more candy than any other kid.

The next picture was of her and a one-year-old Ethan and that made Ethan scrunch his nose and cover his eyes. Everyone was overjoyed to see old pictures of Christine and Harrison with Ethan’s pictures in it sometimes. Then their first family picture without her mom showed up and that made you smile at Harrison.

“You raised them well without her, you know.” You said and he nodded.

“Thank you.” He grinned.

Christine continued singing and decided to switch up the lyrics last minute, “Daddy’s smart and Y/N’s the prettiest lady in the whole wide world.”

Harrison looked at you and chuckled when he saw you crying, “Now you’re the one crying.”

“Yeah, sue me.” You sniffed and wiped your tears away.

Christine walked to where you two were and Tom quickly held the mic for her.

Now I know why all the trees change in the fall I know you were on my side even when I was wrong And I love you for giving me your eyes

Christine cried as her mother yelled at her. Harrison got mad and said, “Don’t yell at her! She’s just a kid, okay?! It’s not her fault!”

Her mom huffed and left the scene to get some air. Harrison turned to Christine and said, “What did you do?”

“I was mad at her so I got her mug and broke it.” Christine frowned and Harrison shook his head before pulling her in for a hug.

“Don’t do that again, yeah? Someone might get hurt.” He said softly before pulling away and wiping her tears away. He stared in her eyes that resembled his and smiled a bit, “Wanna watch cartoons?”

“Yeah.” Christine grinned.

“For staying back and watching me shine and I didn’t know if you knew, so I’m taking this chance to say that I had the best day with you today.” Christine ended the song with a smile. “I hope you liked it.”

Everyone clapped and Harrison got up from his seat to give her a hug, “That was amazing, darling! I loved it.”

You hugged her too and said, “It’s the best gift I’ve ever had. Thank you, sweetheart.”

She smiled at you and said, “You’re welcome, mum.”

It was the best Mother’s Day ever.

* * * *

feedback is sexy

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[heyitssmiller]

Frosted Windowpanes: Part One

The Christmas Fic is here! Featuring Logan the lumberjack, Leo who owns a diner, and Finn who was just trying to have a quiet, uneventful holiday (lol). This was supposed to be a oneshot, but y’all know I’m too long-winded for that, so it looks like we’ll be having at least one more part for this story!

@donttouchmycarrots Thank you so much for proofreading/encouraging/being such a wonderful, wonderful friend. I don’t think I’d still be writing without you and iloveyouiloveyouiloveyou 

@lumosinlove​ Again, thank you for such wonderful characters! And for creating such a wonderful, welcoming fandom! I never thought I’d post my writing where people could read it, but then I met y’all and here we are! You guys are amazing! Happy Holidays, everyone! <3

Part Two is now up!

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It's that time of year When the world falls in love Every song you hear seems to say

- The Christmas Waltz

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Piercing, bitter cold greeted Logan as he stepped outside for the first time that day. The kind of cold that made the entire body tense up and the breath hitch. It was a quiet early morning, with a stillness that only freshly-fallen snow could bring. Logan took a second to pull his toque further down over his head as he grabbed the chainsaw by the door before heading out to the truck, passing the sign with red, clean lettering that read Tremblay’s Christmas Trees.

“Took you long enough, sleeping beauty.” His sister, Noelle, teased from the driver’s seat of the beat-up truck that barely started most mornings.

“It’s too early for this.” He grumbled back, sliding into the passenger’s seat as the truck reluctantly spluttered to a start.

“The faster we get done out here, the faster we can go deal with customers.”

“That’s not exactly helping.”

Noelle laughed as she drove back into one of the fields, parking the truck at the far end. “Come on, it’s not that bad. They ask to buy a tree, you help them pick one out, take their money, and strap it to their car. Easy.”

They got out of the truck, grabbed the chainsaw from the back, and headed towards their first tagged tree. Logan grabbed the tree around its trunk to stabilize it while Noelle powered up the chainsaw, putting their conversation on hold. She crouched down to start cutting the base of the tree trunk, creating a notch before starting the back cut. Logan waited until the tree felt unstable before giving the tree a gentle push in the right direction and removing his hands. The tree hit the ground with a thud.

Noelle took that as her cue to continue their conversation. “Don’t pretend to be all grumpy and stoic. I know you like some of our regulars.”

“Some being the key word here.” He replied, grabbing the tree trunk again and beginning to drag it to the truck. Noelle just gave him a look that clearly said I see right through you but didn’t comment as she looked for the next tagged tree.

Logan heaved the Christmas tree into the bed of the truck and shoved it into one corner; he could probably fit one more tree alongside it before he started stacking them. He stood up straight, turning his head to watch the sun rise and peek over the tops of the trees, bringing rays of light and warmth with it.

Leo basked in the warmth coming from the oven as he took out a fresh batch of croissants, a welcome reprieve from the weather outside. He quickly put the next tray of pastries into the oven and transferred the baked croissants onto a plate, where he let them cool just a little before drizzling them with honey. He hummed along to the Christmas music playing on the radio as he worked on getting the diner ready to open in a few hours. He started the gumbo, red beans and rice, and jambalaya, letting them simmer on the stove before whipping up his fried chicken batter and breading so that it was ready whenever he needed it. Next was the cornbread, which was made from scratch and poured into muffin tins to create the perfect individual servings. Coffee was brewed, quiches were placed in the display window, waffle batter was whipped up and sitting in a bowl on the counter.

Leo was arranging croissants into a basket when the back door opened, letting all the cold air in and a small flurry of snow with it.

“Good morning!” Nate called as he came around the corner, shedding his coat and hat. Leo honestly wasn’t sure what he’d do without Nate. Running his own diner was hard – it was even harder when he’d moved to a different country, not knowing anyone there, and kept afloat with barely anything but his optimism and his confidence in his cooking. Nate was the first person he’d hired when business actually picked up, and he’d been there ever since. He had a real knack for cooking and managed to make every person that walked through their doors feel welcomed.

“Headed out to the farm?” Nate asked when he saw the basket of croissants and the large thermos Leo was filling with coffee.

“Yeah.” Leo said, grabbing coffee creamer and sugar and shoving them into his coat pocket after he slipped it on. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Nah, I can hold down the fort while you’re gone.”

Leo smiled as he grabbed his hat. “Thanks. There’s croissants in the oven, but they’ll be done as soon as that timer goes off! I’ll be right back, ok?”

Nate gave him a look. “No you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Leo agreed with a laugh. “But I’ll be back before morning rush.” He said as he braced himself and opened the door to be greeted by the frigid Canadian winter.

Even after a year and a half, he had a feeling he’d never get used to this weather.

He made a beeline for his car, quickly getting behind the wheel and cranking the heat as high as it would go. He put the car in drive and slowly pulled out onto the road, keeping a firm grip on the wheel and his eyes on the road. He knew he was probably causing a traffic build-up behind him, which made Leo feel a little guilty. He’d driven through hurricanes countless times, but snow? Black ice? He was absolutely terrified of that. So he took his time, eventually turning off the main road and driving until he reached a sign with red lettering and a Christmas tree lot. There were handmade wreaths and garlands, and white Christmas lights strung up over the rows of trees for sale.

Leo put the car in park and grabbed his stuff, breath hitching as he faced the cold winds again. Marius, the head of the Tremblay family, was at the checkout counter, writing something down on a pad of paper. Once he looked up and saw Leo, he smiled broadly. “Hey, Nut!”

“Good morning.” Leo replied, raising the basket and thermos in his hands. “I come bearing gifts. Coffee and croissants.”

“You know you don’t have to do that.” Marius said as he gave Leo a stern look. “I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”

Leo shrugged, opening the basket and offering them to the man. “I like doing this. Y’all work hard and have ridiculously long hours. And you work in this weather. I feel like you could use a little warmth.”

“You and your southern manners.” He grabbed a croissant anyways, taking a big bite. “Your favorite’s still out there bringing some trees in.” He said, motioning to one of the groves to the left. Leo could faintly hear the sound of a chainsaw in the distance.

“I don’t have favorites,” Leo protested as he set the thermos and croissants down on the table, even though it was clearly a bald-faced lie. He thought of evergreen eyes and a gorgeous laugh and a smile that left him breathless. He blamed the redness of his cheeks and ears on the cold. “I like all of you equally.”

“Right.” Marius said, dragging out the vowel. He was smiling, though. “He’s lucky to have a friend like you, you know.”

Leo had to force his smile to remain steadfast. Friend. That was all this was ever going to be, no matter how much his heart yearned for something more. He needed to learn to be content with that – it wasn’t fair to Logan otherwise, or to himself for that matter. He could be a good friend and leave it at that. It was still better than not knowing him at all.

“I think I’m the lucky one.” He said, only then remembering the sugar and coffee creamers in his coat pocket. He fished them out and set them on the counter next to the thermos. “I do have to get going, though. I’ve got the breakfast rush to deal with.”

Marius waved him off playfully, grabbing another croissant. “Go on, then. I’ll try to save some for the rest of them.”

Leo laughed at his antics, breath clouding in the air. “I’m holding you to that.”

Marius watched him get in his car and drive off very slowly with a chuckle. Damn southerners. He looked down at the coffee creamers and sugar, knowing Logan was the only one in the family that used them, and started speculating.

He heard the rumbling of the truck as it came in, the back loaded to the brim with trees. Noelle and Logan’s bickering could be heard before the truck’s engine got turned off, which was saying something. Marius grabbed a cup and filled it with coffee. He was going to need it.

“I mean, come on. Back to the Future is clearly the superior 80s movie. It’s definitely better than Top Gun.”

Logan closed his door, staring at his sister with a combination of horror and disbelief. “How dare you. Those aren’t even in the same genre!”

Noelle looked over at Marius right as she was about to start her counterargument and spotted the pastries and coffee. She grinned and abandoned Logan at the back of the truck in order to beat him to the food. One croissant was immediately shoved into her mouth as she grabbed another and then reached for a coffee cup one-handed. Marius snorted and grabbed it from her, filling it with steaming coffee.

She groaned. “Lolo, your friend needs to stop by more often. Fuck, this is good. If I wasn’t in a committed relationship already, I’d ask him to marry me.”

“Please don’t call me that.” Logan said gruffly, but his words were betrayed by a smile. He looked down at the pastries, eyes soft and smile dopy.

Marius knew that look. More importantly, he knew his son. And everything fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

“Maybe Logan should ask, instead.” He teased, although a part of him was completely genuine.

Logan choked on his first bite of croissant.

.

“Finn!” June shouted as soon as she flung the door open, throwing herself into his arms. Finn laughed and hugged her back. Two seconds into his visit and he knew this was going to be the best way to spend the week before Christmas. He hadn’t seen June since they graduated college and, even though they kept in touch, it wasn’t the same.

“Four years is way too long.” He said as she let go. “Let’s not go that long without seeing each other again, ok?”

“Deal.” She replied, grabbing his bag for him and leading the way inside. The apartment was warm and cozy and lived in – there were books on the coffee table and a large pile of mail on the counter and a few stray dishes in the sink.

Finn loved it.

Heather, June’s fiancée, smiled in greeting and stuck her hand out to shake. “You must be Finn.”

He had originally thought it might be a little bit awkward, meeting his ex-girlfriend’s fiancée, but Heather seemed kind and welcoming and unperturbed about the whole thing. He shook her hand and returned the smile. “Heather. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh god.” She laughed, shooting June a look. June just winked and leaned over to check whatever food was in the oven.

“All good things.” Finn promised, letting Heather lead him to the guest room. It was as happy and welcoming as the rest of the apartment. As soon as they were out of earshot, he continued, “I’m really happy for you guys. She’s happier than I've ever seen her.”

“So am I.” Heather said wistfully as Finn set his bag down. “Bathroom’s through that door if you need it.”

“Thanks.”

When he rejoined the group in the living room, he noticed something: a distinct lack of Christmas decorations. June used to love decorating her college dorm room for the holidays – she went all out with little things she bought at the Dollar Tree and a miniature Christmas tree from Walmart. They used to get the tree together every year. It was strange that she hadn’t continued the tradition.

“No tree?” He asked June, surprised. She shrugged and scooted over on the couch to make room for all three of them.

“Haven’t had the time. I’ve been so busy at work and Heather’s been traveling for conferences. It’s not the same when you have to decorate by yourself.”

Finn hummed understandingly. He knew the feeling. “Why don’t we go get one now? Do you think some places are still open this late?”

Heather and June looked at each other, seeming to have a telepathic conversation. Finn watched on in amusement as they communicated with raised eyebrows and narrowed eyes and shrugs until they apparently made up their minds.

“Tremblay’s is probably still open. They’ve got the best trees, anyways.” June explained, turning to look at Finn. “But I’ve got to stay here and make sure our dinner doesn’t burn.”

“And I’ve got to stay here and supervise June while she uses the oven.” Heather added. Finn laughed, remembering too many times June had burned herself while using the rickety old oven from the 1970s that still lived on in their dorm building.

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Finn teased and ruffled June’s hair. She just rolled her eyes and didn’t even bother trying to smooth it out again. Ruffling hair was one of Finn’s main ways of showing affection – she knew it would just get messed up again. Finn fished his phone out of his pocket and pulled up his navigation app. “I can go get the tree, if you want. You said the place was called Tremblay’s?”

“Finn, you really don’t have to-”

“No, I want to!” He cut in, standing up from the couch to grab his coat. “I didn’t bring presents for you guys because I’m so bad at gift-giving, so this can be my Christmas present.”

Heather hesitated. “Are you sure you don’t mind?” She asked, glancing at June again. “We can always go out and get a tree tomorrow.”

“It’s fine. I’ll be back soon, and with a tree!” Finn said as he reached the door, turned to give a cheery salute, and headed out to his car.

After a frankly terrifying drive through narrow back roads and potential ice hazards, Finn followed his app to a little tree farm off of the main road. There weren’t many cars there, thankfully, and it still looked open. The rows of white lights hanging above the trees were all lit and glowing, snow was falling at a slow, sleepy pace. It looked perfect, like something out of a dream.

And that was before Finn saw him.

The man working the front counter.

Finn raked his gaze over the man and swooned. Wavy brown hair, bright eyes, shoulders and arms so broad and built that it seemed like they were about to rip the plaid shirt he was wearing. With a nametag that stated Logan, he seemed like a rugged, Canadian, lumberjack dreamboat. Finn swallowed, making his way to the counter and the absolute vision behind it while he focused on not tripping over his own two feet.

“Hi,” Finn managed, trying not to get lost in evergreen eyes. “I’d like to buy a tree, please.”

“What type of tree would you like?”

Oh, the accent.

Finn was screwed.

“Uh…” Finn trailed off, looking at Logan and struggling to find words. “A Christmas tree?”

“Spruce, pine, or fir?” When Finn’s expression turned more confused, Logan smiled in exasperated, awed delight. Who drove all this way for a tree and had no clue what they were looking for? Most people at least had some idea. But not this one, apparently. Those big, Bambi eyes were lost and absolutely adorable.

“Do you have a size you’re looking for?” Logan asked, receiving a more perplexed look.

This was too funny. “Do you know anything about what kind of tree you want?”

“A pretty one? But not too expensive. Or too tall. Or heavy – I’ve got to get it up a huge flight of stairs.”

Logan couldn’t hold back the laughter any longer. He leaned forwards against the counter and laughed, eyes squeezing shut and shoulders shaking. Finn watched with a smile of his own, taking in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners and the contagious nature of his laugh. He felt like this – this right here – was the only thing he wanted to do for the next several hours, especially if he was the reason for the laughter. He thought of that song he could never remember the name of but heard a lot on Tiktok that said, “oh no, I think I’m catching feelings” and never related to a song more in his entire life.

“Ok,” Logan said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Ok, I’m going to pick one out for you, how’s that sound…?”

“Finn.” The redhead supplied with a laugh of his own. “And please. I have no clue what I’m doing.”

“Clearly.” Logan stepped around the counter and led him towards a group of trees. “These are Douglas Firs. They last a long time, smell great, and they don’t take a lot of trimming or maintenance. They’re also pretty cheap since they’re so common.”

Finn looked from the trees to another group of trees a little ways off. “They all look the same.”

“Who’s the expert here?” Logan teased, shooting him a look over his shoulder as he walked from one tree to the next. Finn trailed after him eagerly, watching calloused, muscular hands trail along the needles of the trees.

“We can go look at the Fraser Firs, if you want, but I really think one of these is your best bet.” Logan continued, stopping in front of a mid-sized tree. “How about this one?”

Finn looked at it, then back at Logan. “What do you think? Since I clearly don’t know anything about trees.” That drew another smile from Logan, which made Finn vow to himself to make the brunet smile like that again.

Logan dragged the tree out from the rest of the group and looked it over. “I think it’s a good one. Good shape, healthy. I sure know how to pick ‘em, eh?”

Eh. How adorably Canadian.

“Sounds good. It’s not even for me, so my input doesn’t really matter a whole lot.”

Logan sent him a confused look. “So you went out at nine o’clock at night to get a Christmas tree, and it’s not for you?”

“I don’t even live in this country.”

“What?”

“I’m visiting friends that live here, and they’ve been traveling or too busy to decorate like they normally do, so I decided I’d get the ball rolling and find them a Christmas tree.” Finn shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Not only was he stunning, he was thoughtful to boot.

Logan clearly had a type.

“That’s nice of you.” He removed the tree from its stand and started lugging it to the counter, watching the redhead trail behind him yet again out of the corner of his eye. When he reached his destination, he set the tree down and found Finn staring at him with a look of awe on his face. He bit back a smile. “How long are you staying?”

Finn was silent for a second, as if in a trance, then snapped out of it with a little shake of his head. “Huh?”

That smile he was holding back broke through. “How long are you staying in town?”

“Oh. Just for the week, then I’m off to spend Christmas with my family back home in New York.”

“A New Yorker, huh?” Logan asked as he bagged the tree up, attempting to do the accent and making Finn laugh. “This must be quite the change of pace for you.”

“You have no idea.”

Finn’s stomach growled, making his eyes widen and his cheeks burn in embarrassment. It must’ve been loud enough for Logan to hear because he turned back around to face Finn and quirked an eyebrow. “Hungry?” He asked, then told Finn the price of the tree. Finn handed his card over.

“Yeah. Haven’t had dinner yet.”

“I, uh, I know a place.” Logan said, playing with Finn’s credit card before meeting his eyes and quickly adding, “If you’re interested. I haven’t had dinner either.”

Finn grinned, not even trying to hide his excitement. The only thing he’d wanted when he left June and Heather’s apartment was a tree. Now he had a potential date with this gorgeous, witty guy? Yes please. “Yeah?”

Logan shared his smile, leaning forward against the counter and looking up at him through dark, dark eyelashes. Finn’s heart fluttered. “Yeah. Sounds fun to me.”

“Great.” Finn said, unsure of what else to say and suddenly feeling a little awkward. Was he supposed to wait for him to finish his shift? Were they driving together? Where was this restaurant?

He needed to text June.

Shit. She had been making dinner when he left. But he’d already agreed to dinner with Logan. But it would be so rude to not spend time with his hosts. But he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn’t go on this date.

He pulled out his phone as Logan ran his card through the system to text June.

To June: Sooooo there might be a change of plans. Some hot guy is my acting tour guide for the night and I won’t be making it home for dinner. But I promise I have a tree and I will be back eventually.

It only took June a few seconds to respond.

From June: Damn. You go, Finn.

He laughed under his breath, then pocketed his phone. When he looked up, Logan was looking at him and holding his card out. Finn grabbed it and shoved it into his wallet, which he pocketed. “Ready to go?” Logan asked, grabbing the trunk of the tree and preparing to drag it again. “I can drive, if you want. We’ll strap the tree to the top of your car and then head out.”

“Works for me. Do you need help with that?” Finn motioned to the tree. Not that he minded the view – quite the contrary – but he felt bad not doing anything.

“Want to grab the netting towards the top? We can carry it instead of dragging it.”

Finn grabbed the netting and followed Logan’s lead as they both lifted the tree and started carrying it out to Finn’s car, Finn giving directions as they went. Getting the tree to the top of the rental car was a struggle, but they managed and strapped it down.

They hurried to Logan’s car and shut out the cold as quickly as they could. Logan started the rickety old pickup truck that smelled strongly of Christmas trees and took off down the road at a much faster pace than Finn would ever dare to drive these roads.

“I have a feeling you’re going to love this place.” Logan said as he turned right onto the main road, accelerating a bit more. “Pretty much everyone does. It’s not very Canadian, but you can’t beat the food.”

“What defines a restaurant as Canadian?” Finn mused, looking over at the driver. “Maple syrup? Poutine?”

“Watch it.” There was no heat in Logan’s voice, so Finn didn’t take it to heart. They slowed down and pulled into a parking lot of a diner simply called Leo’s. The outside looked a little rundown, which made Finn a little apprehensive, but the windows were all fogged up from the temperature difference between inside and outside, which was always promising.

Logan turned the car off and shot Finn an excited grin. “Ready?”

Finn couldn’t tell if he was excited for dinner with him or just the food. Hopefully it was both.

The inside of the diner was… eclectic. The walls were a faint yellow, but there were splashes of deep purple, green, and gold in the decorations on the walls. Mardis Gras, Finn realized as he spotted some masks hanging on the wall. The food smelled amazing – warm and spicy and savory. Behind the baked goods on display counter stood a young kid with a cleaning spray and a rag, wiping down the counters. He looked up at the bell that signaled the door opening and instantly recognized Logan. He sent them a smile before turning his head and shouting towards the direction of the kitchen, “Leo!”

There was a loud clang, followed by a muffled curse. “Be there in a jiffy!”

Finn looked to Logan in confusion. “Was that a southern accent? Like American south?”

“Leo.” Was all Logan said, a happy smile on his face.

“You guys can go ahead and sit down,” The kid at the counter said. “I’ll bring some menus.”

“Thanks, Nate.” Logan led the way towards a booth in the front corner of the dining area and sat down facing the door. Finn sat opposite him, accepting a menu with thanks. The menu consisted of southern U.S. staples – biscuits and gravy, grits, red beans and rice, fried chicken, etouffee, jambalaya, po’boys, fried catfish, cornbread, the list went on.

“So is this guy from Louisiana?”

Logan wasn’t even looking at the menu, he was watching every nuance of Finn’s expressions as he took everything in. “New Orleans, born and raised.”

“How the hell did he end up here?”

“He had an uncle who owned this place and left it to Leo when he died. Originally he was just going to fix it up and sell it before going back home, but two months led to a year and he’s still here. Doesn’t seem to be planning on going anywhere else for a while, either.” Logan suddenly perked up, looking at something over Finn’s shoulder. “Here he comes.”

Finn swiveled in his seat and stopped dead in his tracks.

Tall.

They were both greeted by a dimpled smile as Leo approached their table, flour or powdered sugar – Finn wasn’t sure which one – all over his apron and a dusting of it in his fluffy blond hair.

“Hey, Logan. See you’ve brought company!” His accent dragged sweet and slow like molasses, so very out of place this far north. But it was refreshing, like a breath of fresh air or the sun coming out from behind the clouds after a week of rain. As he got closer, Finn realized what he’d thought to be flour in his hair was actually a gray streak. And wow, were his eyes blue.

How was everyone here so attractive?

“Finn, meet Leo. Leo, this is Finn.” Logan said, smile never leaving his face as he looked between the two. “He’s new here.”

Leo arched an eyebrow. “And you brought him here?”

“You do have the best pie in town.”

That got another sunny smile from Leo. “Damn right I do. But dinner first. Can’t go on spoilin’ your dinner with pie.” Those blue eyes turned to Finn, causing his breath to hitch just a little. “What’ll you have, sugar?”

Finn simply wasn’t going to survive this night. Was this a dream? That would explain all the attractive guys – the probabilities of something like this happening in real life were slim to none. He pinched his arm harshly. Not a dream.

What the fuck?

Finn realized he still hadn’t answered and was just staring at the blond. He cleared his throat and quickly averted his gaze to the menu, not really reading anything but grateful for something else to look at besides the two guys in front of him. “Um… what would you recommend?” He finally asked, grateful that he could get his vocal cords to actually work.

Leo hummed, thinking about it. “Personally I really like the muffuletta, if you’re looking for a sandwich. Definitely the gumbo if you’re in the mood for soup. I do make a mean fried catfish, too.”

Finn wasn’t sure what exactly a muffuletta was, but he ordered it. Logan got his usual, whatever that meant. Leo wrote down their orders and gave them one last smile before retreating to the kitchen. They both watched him go, then Finn whipped back around to face Logan.

“Is he real?”

Logan just laughed, leaning back in his seat. Finn panicked for half a second, terrified that what he’d said was the worst possible thought to voice on what was potentially a first date. But Logan didn’t seem to mind. He just looked back at the kitchen with a soft smile Finn hadn’t seen before.

“You know, I ask myself that a lot.” He said quietly, as if he hadn’t meant to say it out loud. And Finn finally understood.

He was in love with Leo.

The sound of a record scratching filled Finn’s head.

Wait.

That didn’t make any sense… because Finn was ninety-five percent sure that Logan had been flirting with him all night.

Hadn’t he?

They made small talk while they waited for their food, and Logan was pleasantly surprised at how… easy it was. He normally didn’t like small talk and didn’t share personal stories with strangers, but here Finn was, pulling stories out of him that he normally wouldn’t share on a first date.

Was this a date? Logan couldn’t decide if he wanted it to be one or not. One hand, this was definitely the most fun he’d had in weeks. On the other hand, Leo. He sent a glance towards the kitchen window before focusing back on Finn’s story about one of the parties he and June went to back in college. There was lots of alcohol, mattresses, and a roof involved. Finn’s storytelling included a myriad of different expressions, all of which Logan found endearing. The wrinkle of his nose when he talked about drunk frat boy antics, the way he got all soft whenever he talked about June, the laughter lines around his eyes when he told a funny anecdote.

How was it possible to be so cute and yet so hot at the same time?

And how had he met two guys who fit into both of those categories?

Nate brought their food out while Logan was in the middle of a story about the time he’d found a squirrel in one of their trees and got attacked when he tried to relocate the thing when Nate came back with the food. Finn had the muffuletta, which was apparently meat and cheese and some sort of olive spread or something – Finn had no idea, but it looked and smelled amazing. Logan had a bowl of red beans and rice in front of him, but he was waiting to see Finn’s reaction to the food before starting his own.

Finn took a bite of the sandwich, then his eyes widened almost comically. “Oh my god.”

“I know.” Logan said, getting a spoonful of red beans and rice.

“Where has this been all my life?”

“Just wait until you try the pie.”

Finn didn’t speak again, he just ate. The food clearly took precedence over any possible conversations. Logan couldn’t help but agree. Finn ate like a man who hadn’t seen food in a week, finishing the sandwich in record time. He leaned back in his seat when he was done, letting out a happy, content sigh. “Holy shit. Is everything on the menu that good?”

“Pretty much.”

“And he hasn’t been on the Food Network yet?”

Logan grinned. “Not that I’m aware of.”

“We should tell them to get up here and try this food.”

“Y’all, I don’t have time for the Food Network.” Finn jumped a little as Leo reappeared with two slices of pie. “I appreciate it, though. You liked it, huh?”

Finn looked up at him. “I kind of want to come back every day I’m here.” And he meant it. He wouldn’t be coming back just for the food, though.

“Well, I definitely won’t stop you.” Leo said with a dimpled smile. Finn barely held in a dreamy sigh.

Dimples.

“Why don’t you join us?” Finn asked, scooting over to make room for the blond. But Leo just shook his head with a rueful smile.

“I wish I could, but I’ve got twelve pies that need to be made.”

“Twelve?” Finn asked in mild horror. “When do you sleep?”

“The chocolate crème pies are in high demand, especially around the holidays. But it’s fine, I don’t mind it. I’m just glad I've got business.” Leo seemed to be ignoring the sleep question, which was never a good sign.

“You look tired.” Logan noted, face muddled with concern.

Leo laughed softly, but didn’t seem to take offense. “Thanks a lot, darlin’.”

Logan broke eye contact and pushed the residual whipped cream around on his plate. Finn hadn’t even realized he’d started eating, but he quickly followed suit and fuck, was that good.

“I just meant you need to take care of yourself, that’s all.” Logan mumbled into his plate without looking up, almost as if he was afraid to see the cook’s response.

“Says the guy who works even longer hours than I do.” Leo teased, causing Logan to roll his eyes.

“That’s because it’s almost Christmas and I work at a Christmas tree farm. It’s only temporary. We’ll be back to normal by the end of the week.”

“Well, good. You deserve to sleep in for once.” Leo said, taking a step back towards the kitchen. “But I really do have to go. Those pies won’t make themselves.”

“Do you want help?” Finn asked hopefully, He honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend the night than baking with these two. Being given instructions in a thick southern drawl, helping Logan make pie filling, trading stories (and maybe kisses) while they waited for the pies to be done.

But Leo quickly dashed his dreams. “That’s sweet, honey, but I think I’ll be faster on my own. I’ve got a system that makes it pretty efficient. And I don’t give out my recipes to just anyone, you know.”

Oh, but I’d love to be someone to you.

Logan also looked disappointed. “We should get going, then. Don’t want to keep distracting you.”

“At least you’re a welcome distraction.” Leo said with a wink before he turned and disappeared into the kitchen. He let the door close behind him before backing up to lean against it, tilting his head back to rest against the wood and closing his eyes. The happy façade dropped in an instant.

Because Logan was out there, on a date with a guy. A handsome, kind, funny guy who would have absolutely no trouble sweeping Logan off his feet.

And that guy wasn’t Leo.

.

Finn flopped dramatically onto the couch back at June’s apartment, muffling a scream into a poor, unsuspecting pillow. June looked up from her book with a laugh. “Well hello to you, too.”

“I’m in love.”

“Oh?” Heather asked from her spot cuddled up next to June.

Finn turned his head sideways to open one eye and look at the two of them. “With a lumberjack and a cook.”

“Ah,” June said knowingly as she dog-eared the page she was on and closed the book. “Beware the lumberjacks. They’re known to be irresistible. Alright then, which Tremblay was it?”

Finn cocked his head. “What?”

Heather smiled as June tilted her head back and let her run her fingers through dark brown curls. They were so cute it was almost sickening. “There’s four of them: three sisters and a brother. Which one did you fall for?”

Finn couldn’t have held back the smile that crossed his face even if he tried. “Logan.”

June groaned. “I get it. Holy shit, those eyes.”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know he cooked, though.”

“No, the cook was another guy.” Finn sighed as he twisted to lay on his back and stare wistfully up at the ceiling. “Leo.”

“The southern one with the diner?”

“That’s the one.”

“Damn, O’Hara. You do know-”

“They’re head-over-heels in love with each other? Yeah, I got that.” Finn stretched his legs out to rest on June’s lap. “But I’m also pretty sure that was a date. And that Logan was flirting with me.” He sighed again, covering his eyes with his arm. “I’m doomed.”

“Always so dramatic.” June teased. “Just date both of them.”

Finn froze, his mind going completely blank. “What?”

“Date both of them.” She repeated, unfazed. “Polyamorous relationships are a thing, you know. Who says you can’t date both of them?”

Finn moved his arm away from his face to stare at her. “Huh.” He finally said, mind kicking back into gear. That sounded… perfect, actually. Only a few hitches. Did Leo even like him? They’d barely talked to each other. Finn could see Logan being ok with the whole dating two people thing, seeing that he was flirting with both of them, but what would Leo think? And the other hitch. “I’m only for a week, though.”

“Then you’d better act fast, lover boy.”

“I’ve got a question.” Heather piped up.

Finn looked at her and raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to ask her question.

“Where’s the tree?”

He could probably see it from their front window if he bothered to stand up, still strapped to his rental car. “Shit.”

#lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finn o'hara #logan tremblay #leo knut #christmas au #frosted windowpanes

[internalsealpanic]

Camp Crystal What?

summary: Camp Crystal Lake is a fine and dandy place to spend your summer, said no one ever. You are inclined to agree with that and so are Damian and Jon. 

a/n: I am back from retirement with a REEEEEEAAAAALLLLY long crack fic. (This is long as shit by my standards. Leave me alone.) This  was co written and edited by my wife @littleredwing89. She was also the biggest enabler for this. I tried to give reader some executive dysfuction but I don’t think it worked out well. We’ll see. This is my first super sons fic please feel free to roast it. 

warnings: This really self indulgent and really long. You would think I would have more gore in a slasher film based fic. No. Apparently not. 

masterlist

Jon cackles, his chin lifting only slightly from its perch on your shoulder just enough for you to fully hear the petty sound. You tilt your switch, sticking out your tongue in a vain attempt to avoid Damian’s blue shell. You cry out, throwing your arms up in exasperation as the shell hits you just as you were about to cross the finish line. Your outstretched prosthetic arm nearly hitting Jon in the process, not that you felt too bad about that considering…

 “Yeah! Got ‘em, Dami!” Jon says, high fiving a smug-looking Damian beside you.  You glare at Jon, who was still leaning against you like you weren’t about to bite his head off. “Whose side are you on?”

 “Justice!” This draws a snort out of both Tim and Jason who were both sitting in the back. 

 “No, you’re not!”

 “Yes, I am!”

 “He is, (l/n). You needed to be cut down to size," Damian declares, subtly brandishing his screen showing Rozalina doing a little victory lap in her kart as her little star guy floated around her. You pout at him, puffing your cheeks like an unruly chipmunk as you cross your arms over your chest. This only serves to make Damian all the smugger and Jon all the more gleeful at your loss. 

 You turn the full force of your ire on Jon who was smiling innocently at you, big blue eyes sparkling reminding you of your husky, Yoohoo. You’re about to say something scathing but stop instead deciding to stew in your loss and sulk as you hand Jon your Switch. You’d think he would be more prepared since he was the one who insisted on coming with you to this camp. Now that you think about it, why were they here? All you remember is telling Jon that you couldn’t go visit him over the summer because your parents were sticking you in a summer camp while they go abroad for something and the next thing you know is that you’re in an SUV with Jon, Damian, Damian’s older brother’s, and their friend(?). Whatever she was to them Damiam never adequately explained like everything else. Though you suspect she was Dick’s wife judging from how little they cared whether the other invaded their space. The lack of a wedding ring made you unsure. 

 You let out a little huff, melting into your oversized Gotham U hoodie, letting Jon lean on you despite your sour mood and touch aversion. You lean against him in return and watch as Yoshi zips past Rosalina in mild petty satisfaction. 

You all file out of the car, drowsy and irritable. You muss Jon’s bed head into an even more tangled mess. Neither of you tells Damian about the streak of drool on his face. Tim shuffles the three of you towards the convenience store while Jason politely explains to the mechanic that he’s wrong, Dick orders lunch at the diner and makes a call back to Gotham presumably to make sure Wayne industries isn’t burning down. 

Over your shoulder, you can see Jason’s form working hard not to look threatening. It’s not working or maybe the mechanic was shaking because Faust isn’t even trying to hide the irritation wicking off of her. 

 “He wha-” Tim pinches the bridge of his nose muttering something about Mr.Wayne. He looks pained. Tim hands you a wad of one-dollar bills as his voice takes Timothy Wayne's public speaker pitch. All of the Wayne’s seem to have three voices. Their Wayne voice, their vigilante voice, and their normal voice. Mr. Wayne has the most distinct voice. Dick’s was honestly really hard to distinguish.  

 You count the wad of cash in your hand as Jon grabs a basket from the pile. You note, with amusement, that at least five of the bills had variations of ‘don’t buy cereal’ written on them in distinct handwriting. 

 “Kent, are you planning to put the entire store in the basket?”

 “Nah, just the good stuff.”

 You marvel at the amount of food Jon managed stockpile in your basket while you were distracted. 

 “Uh, Jon, we don’t need that much.” Plus, I don’t think we can eat all of that. 

 “They’re right,” Damian chides, making Jon pout. 

 After a healthy amount of debate, two almost food fights, a near fistfight, and your attempt at puppy dog eyes, you finally narrow the snacks down and even have enough money left for slushies. You shrug at her, adding more blue than necessary. There weren’t rules against this. Plus, it was tastier this way. 

 “Dami,  what flavor do you want?” Jon shouts from the slushie machine.  Beside him, you swirl a mix of red, green, pink, and blue slushies. The lady at the counter was wrinkling her nose at you the way Dami is wrinkling his nose at Jon.

 Jon’s big cup of neon blue smoothie dropped to the floor in a loud clatter. 

 “You’re all doomed! He’s coming. He’s coming! That place is cursed!” The scraggly man screams as he shakes Jon. Damian’s lip tries not to curl in amusement as you both watch the scene unfold. Out of context, this was horrifying. In context, it was hilarious especially considering how badly Jon is acting. The clerk at the counter looks appropriately horrified. You look at Jon, feeling a twinge of worry. He’s not in danger. You know that but you can’t help it.

 Your concoction flies into the man’s face in no time flat and Jon scrambles to your side as soon as the man drops him. You step in front of him bracing for further confrontation but the man simply walks off muttering about something you couldn’t hear over the beating of your heart. 

“Exactly, why am I in the back?” Jason whines, unfolding and refolding himself, not quite sure where to place what limb in the cramped back row of the SUV. You let out a giggle which earns you a rather harsh glare from an already irate Jason. Damian glares back at him for you, in an oddly protective gesture, and you can’t help but feel strangely smug about it. 

 They glower at each other for a few minutes. Jason, probably knowing this was a stalemate, turns his attention towards the front of the vehicle, sharp green eyes narrowing at the rearview mirror. “Shouldn’t Faust’s short ass be in the back with Timbo and the Three Tiny Terrors?” 

 You hear an amused huff from the front along with the loud crinkling and shuffling of the map. Faust glances over her shoulder, the bright mischief in her eyes contrasting with the rich brown of her skin. You wonder if everyone in Damian and Jon’s lives were all this pretty. An almost smile quirks on the edges of her lips as she says “You didn’t call shotgun~”

 Jason hisses something colorful behind you. Tim, beside him, is chuckling either from Jason’s misery or, based on the defeated cry coming from Jon, having just nailed Yoshi with lightning. Could be both. It was likely. 

 Jason, looking positively annoyed, unfolds himself and violently settles his feet on Tim’s lap. Tim yelps then says something close to a swear word. Jason grins lazily looking more like a cat as he leans back. This time Jon cries out in joy, the victory music blaring from your switch. Again, Tim hisses something edging towards a curse word. Jon wriggles out of his seat and fist bumps Jason who returns the gesture enthusiastically. In the reflection on the windshield, you can clearly see the amusement in Dick’s smile. Even to your right, Damian seems amused if not outright gleeful at seeing Tim’s misery.  You couldn’t quite tell. You weren’t a master of reading Waynes yet. You would turn to Jon but he wasn't fluent either. Faust told you that it would take a while which just meant that you would never master it. Reading people was hard enough as it was. There was always something difficult about interpreting social signals. It was so easy to get them wrong and when you add in the complication of being a vigilante you just found yourself frustrated. You slump into the seat feeling the frustration writhing under your skin. Jon noticing your frustration eases up and gives you a little more space. 

 "So, what's with the map?" Tim asks, throwing Jason's feet back at him and handing you his switch. Faust wrinkles her nose at the offending piece of paper. "Well, Dicktopus here insisted on the authentic road trip atmosphere complete with bad cell signal, a map, and oh right, getting lost." Dick gives her a look which Faust just shrugs it off. 

 "Like what? The Goofy movie?" Tim asks incredulously, his brows wrinkling in the rearview mirror as he gives Dick a withering look. 

 Faust snorts in confirmation. Jon’s face crumples in confusion. You make a small hiccupping noise mimicking the noise that passes for Goofy's laugh and you see as the bleary memory clicks into place. "You mean the old movie we watched last night?"

 "It's old but gold," Dick defends fervently, earning him an indulgent smile from Faust and a withering look from Damian. Damian shrinks into his seat unwilling to expend too much effort defending his mentor's taste in movies despite him enjoying the movie. You did too but you wanted to see how this would play out. Behind you, Jason shifts, a shark-like grin plastered across his face. " Just because that's the movie you modeled your life after, Big Bird, doesn't mean it's good."

 Dick makes this affronted noise that makes him sound a little like he's squawking. "It's a good movie and you know it!" Dick says earnestly, scowling at a still cocky Jason through the reflection in the windshield. You see Damian, Jason, Faust, and Tim's eyes meet in the rearview mirror, all shining conspiratorially. You and Jon give each other a look, each looking like you're bracing for disaster. 

 "Dunno, Dick, I think the second one was soooo much better," Tim pipes up finally. It sounds like the spark lighting a trail of gunpowder towards a powder keg. 

 "I have to agree with Drake," Damian says honestly sounding pained. 

 Faust rewards him with a conspiratorial smile which makes Damian ease a little. The gesture from what you understood roughly translated to 'it was for the greater good.' "So much for your taste in movies, Dickens," Faust teases, poking a finger at Dick’s shoulder. 

 "You're one to talk!" Dick says, rolling his eyes childishly. 

 Faust twists her body to look at all 5 of you, winking at you and Jon as if she was about to perform a magic trick, which wasn't off the table since she could actually pull weapons from her tattooed skin. "You guys loved Lake Placid, right?" 

 Playing along, you each gave varying sounds of agreement til Dick finally threw his hands up in exasperation. "HEATHENS!" Faust looks pleased as punch at this reaction. You giggle as Dick groans into the steering wheel as you slow to a stop in front of a cross-section. 

 "Traitors all of you," Dick says, resting his arm on the back of his seat and giving all of you a halfhearted scowl. He kind of looked like Yoohoo when you refused to give him treats. 

 You all bask in Dick’s misery. You even catch Jon giggling at Dick’s frown despite himself. The rest were completely unrepentant. They don't even bother to hide the self-satisfied smiles on their faces, least of all Damian who vehemently protested to being subjected to such drivel. This is, of course, ignoring the fact that he had watched the movie with the same rapt attention as you and Jon. You all enjoyed the movie just as much as Dick did but it was much funnier to gang up on him. 

 Dick continues to argue his point as all of you offer, frankly, bogus arguments that you say with as much conviction as Dick levels against you. The banter continues in a rather jaunty rhythm until a fallen tree forces the car into a rather abrupt stop. 

 "Shit!" Jason hisses at full volume as his knees hit the back of Damian’s seat which draws out a soft 'oof' from Damian which quickly reshapes into a snarl. Tim and Damian give Jason a look of mock sympathy. Jason raises his middle finger in a vaguely familiar gesture. 

 "Jason!" Dick says, cutting off your train of thought much to your frustration. You contemplate hissing some colorful words yourself. 

 Jason grunts, probably rubbing his shins. "They've heard, said, and done worse." You hear Jon protest beside you but it's quickly cut off by a 'not you' from somewhere. 

 Then it hits you. "Oh yeah! Dami did that hand thingy when he drop-kicked someone during lunch," you admit conversationally. 

 "Dami!" 

 Damian gives you an absolutely betrayed look. You shrug at him not entirely sure what was wrong. You shrink a little and Damian pulls back a little but still glares. 

 "Didn't you hear him say the F-word?" Jon adds. You blink at him, running through your memory like a film reel and turning up nothing. "Some of us don't have super hearing," you supply with no real anger behind it. 

 "Ope, sorry, (y/n)." You shrug at him congenially as he smiles sheepishly at you. No harm no foul. 

 "Kent!"

 "Oh- Uh, sorry, Dami." 

 Damian doesn't look appeased at all by this. 

 “Ok, so we’re just gonna skip over the fact that he drop-kicked someone?” Tim asks, raising a brow and you find yourself thinking, “Well, yeah. He’s Robin. That’s kinda his thing.”

 Jason snorts beside him, seemingly less irritable now that Dick’s attention was directed elsewhere. “He didn’t get caught soooo..”

 “Jason!”

 “Jason, we’re not supposed to be obvious about being terrible influences.” Faust jokes, now redirecting Dick’s ire to her. You can’t tell if that was intentional or not but either way she seems to be enjoying how Dick’s expression makes him look like a carp gasping for air.

 “Why did you tell them?” Damian hisses, albeit softer than he normally does. You frown at him confused. You thought it was spectacular and you really don’t know what was wrong. You really wish they’d explain it. Maybe you should speak up but would that be rude? You stare at Damian trying your hardest to convey your confusion but you’re having trouble shaping your face into the correct one. You try to keep in mind the face Jon makes when Damian tried to explain quantum physics to both of you. 

 Turning away from her argument with Dick, Faust looks at you pityingly before speaking and putting her hand up to Dick’s face lightly pushing him back. “Relax, Baby Vamp, I would’ve gotten it out of them sooner or later,” Faust says, looking at you with the same stern look Mr. Pennyworth gives you when you try to steal cookies. It kind of reminds you of the Penance Stare from Ghost Riders but with less flaming skulls and more implied disappointment. 

 “Tim was the one who ate the last few pieces of the brownies Mr. Pennyworth made for Jason.” The words flow out of you like water from a cataract. Faust waves her hand theatrically as if she had just demonstrated a magic trick. Again, you’re pretty sure this was one. You wince fully expecting Tim to have the same caustic reaction as Damian. But when you turn to look at him to apologize, Tim already had his hands up in front of him defensively. On the other side, not far enough away for Tim’s liking, Jason looks livid, steam coming out of his ears. 

 “Those were mine, asshole!”

 “You eat them every time you’re at the Manor!”

 “When I’m at the Manor! Which is what? Once every three months?”

 “Two,” Tim deadpans, holding up two fingers. 

 That was the wrong thing to say, you realize. From the way they’re staring at each other, you’re a little afraid they’d come to blows as Jason surges forward. 

 “Tim, Jay, I will turn this car around if you two don’t stop.”

 “Please, continue.” Dick shoots Damian a ‘you are not helping’ glare but Damian simply answers with a warning one. They all look ready for a brawl and all you want to do is curl up into your oversized hoodie. You play with the frayed edges of your hoodie hoping you’re radiating your discomfort.

 And like an angel of mercy, Faust clears her throat. “(Y/n), Jon, help me clear the road.” The statement leaves no room for argument and you and Jon breathe a collective sigh of relief. 

Jon lifts the tree with ease. It was an oddly healthy tree, freshly cut. Something about it made your stomach turn. “Jon could have done it alone. Why bring me?” You ask, distracting yourself from the strange feeling by fiddling with the joints of your metal hand which only made you more conscious of how pointless it was to bring you along. Faust glances towards the car. The boys are still bickering. She then glances down at you with a wry smile. “Waynes bickering is really funny from a distance.” Your eyes glance at the light scar on her running down her clavicle, disappearing into the line of her shirt.  You doubt it’s from any of them. You really doubt it. The Wayne kids were chaotic, especially the girls, but they’re never- Well, they can be hurtful but not that way. Not that you’ve seen anyway.   You shake your head and glance at the car and watch them argue. Their gestures are animated and loud enough that you could almost hear the bickering going on. This liveliness settles your stomach. 

 You spend a few minutes out there waiting for them to settle down. It was long enough for you and Jon to start debating the existence of Gummy Bear shaped aliens and for Faust to weigh in with her humble opinion. Dick honks at the three of you to tell you it was, relatively, safe to come back. Tim, Damian, and Jason were all sulking in their respective corners while Dick gives you and Jon an apologetic look. Jon simply shrugs as if to say it was normal for brothers to argue but you found it hard to picture Conner ever being that mean to Jon or vice versa for that matter. Faust rolls her eyes at the sulking birds, a fond smile quirking on her lips.  Dick gives her a look that was usually followed by the words ‘I miss not being the adult’ which she graciously answers with a smile that plainly says ‘me too.’

 In the corner of your eye, you see something- a shadow- move in the woods as you drive off, Dick’s story about space aliens falling away into the background. You turn to Jon who looks at you confused and a little concerned. It was clear he didn’t see it, whatever it was. You turn to Damian but see he’s still stewing. You blin and the shadow is gone. A sticky feeling of dread settles in your stomach. 

 There's pressure in the car. 

The camp is, well, loud. 

 Louder than you were expecting and full of rowdier children than promised. You wince slightly, ears ringing. You and Damian sigh already knowing that you were both going to be absolutely exhausted by the end of this. You turn to Jon, shoulder slumping, only to find him beaming as he watched the other kids run around. There were alot of days you envied Jon and this was one of them. Damian looks at Jon with utter disbelief. You shrug at him as he wrinkles his nose at both Jon and the hooligans running around. Your lip quirks into a scraggly smile fully understanding.

 “This is going to be repulsive,” Damian hisses.  

 “Lighten up, Dami.”

 “Nah, he’s gotta practice being dark and brooding, so when he gets to be the big bad bat he can do the whole brooding thing all-natural,” you joke, using your finger to mimic the ears of Batman’s cowl. 

 “Please, say that louder. I don’t think the supervillains heard you,” says Damian sarcastically, nose upturned.  

 Jon grins at you in a challenge. You raise a brow, crossing your arms. Your brain cell takes a vacation. 

 “HE’S GOTTA-” Damian clamps a hand on your mouth. You glare at him. His eye flicks to Jon who is sucking in a breath. Damian is throwing his other hand over Jon’s mouth when one of the counselors waves you over. All three of you blanch at the color of the shirt. 

 You all stand in an odd misshapen circle. Damian looks incredulously at the tacky camp T-shirt he’s been forced into while Jon does not contain his laughter. You joke about how a bowtie would definitely class it up which earns you a rude gesture that just makes you laugh harder. 

 “Alright kiddos, it’s time to introduce ourselves!”

 Damian froze under the weight of their collective gazes, the hint of a smile on his face fading. Sometimes being around you and Jon made him forget. Well, not really forget. It was just easier not to think about it when you two were around. Damian feels himself shifting, realigning himself to 5’ 2” of cold arrogance.

 It should have scared you just how easily the warm fondness on his face smoothed out giving way to this cold calculating face. It did on some level; on some level, the efficiency of Damian’s face muscles scared you. Sometimes you had to wonder if it was just him or if his brothers had the same knee-jerk reaction. 

 You roll your eyes as if nothing worrying had happened and bump your shoulder against his. A smile twitches on his lip and the ramrod shape of his spine curves a bit.  Jon snickers, not trying too hard to hide it, which earns him the full force of Damian’s ire but you and Jon know all too well that Damian’s just being prickly.  You step forward, shoulders broadening, nudging a glaring Damian behind you redirecting everyone’s stares towards you. It’s uncomfortable but you don’t mind. Damian huff behind you but doesn’t protest any more than that. You smile amicably or as amicably as you can. You need to remember the correct shape.  

Introductions go off without a hitch. 

 Jon, like always, has no trouble stirring the crowd. 

  You make an impression when your introduction careens into a tangent about angelfish.

 Behind you, Damian scoffs and  crosses his arms over his chest. Contrary to popular belief, Damian did have a tendency to be nervous, especially around new people. This is compounded by the fact that Damian wasn’t really versed in dealing with people his own age which just put him on edge. 

 Thankfully, all three of you get sorted into the same cabin. The cabin is chaotic in a familiar, childish sort of way with pillows flying everywhere and kids jumping up and down their bed. Jon immediately jumps into the fray. Damian follows soon after Jon hits him with a pillow square in the face. 

 “Woman up and face me, Kent!”

 You look up to the sky and smile in amusement.  This is going to be an interesting summer.

The room is solid. 

 Your eyes incandescent in the darkness. The air crackles in anticipation of the storm.  

 A silver streak of lightning tears down through the heavens and crashes down into the lake. 

 A strange dislocation in the universe has emerged.

 Your eyes shut. 

 Your ears pop. 

 You do not hear as something mangled rises from the water. 

You wanted to say this was a horrible idea. Though, you’re not sure how to phrase that without implying they’re idiots. You’ve been hanging out with Damian too much. He’s starting to rub off on you and you’re mildly concerned. 

 You’d told them that the whole fight was your fault. Ok, not entirely. You simply told the kid off when he was making fun of Jon and you were not gonna stand for that. The kid shoved you, Damian 'accidentally' broke his nose, and the next thing you know is that you’ve been shoved into a random group of campers.It’s been a week but you still weren’t familiar with a lot of the people in the camp. The man with kind eyes said this would be good for you.  You really would have preferred staying at the campgrounds, cleaning and doing whatever with the people in your cabin. 

 “Alright, kiddos, you guys can go swim while me and Jos go check something out in the woods.”

 “Don’t do anything we wouldn’t!”

 You sniff and bite your tongue, playing with the hem of your shirt. 

 "You sure they're gonna be ok?"

 "What you think they're gonna disappear like Cat?"

 Your ears perk up at this. 

 "Well, I mean-"

 "She probably just ran off with one of the town boys." 

 This was probably the best time to bring up child endangerment protocols or the fact that you’re not even dressed for swimming. By the time you string the correct combination of words,  they’re gone. You sigh and huddle yourself into a tree. It’s not like you’re dressed to swim anyway even if you wanted to. 

 You hug your knees as you flatten yourself against the tree, making sure your prosthetic limb is tucked beneath your normal one. You watch the others as they horse around looking like they’re really enjoying themselves. They probably didn’t realize you were there or did they even notice you join the group. Doesn’t matter really. Right now you would prefer to sit under the tree than risking your arm. Mr. Fox had explained that since it was still a prototype it was delicate. 

 “HEY!”

 You jump. Your skin feeling very confined. You turn to the voice. Jesse, you think. 

 “Sorry. Could you- can you say that again?”

 She rolls her eyes at you and you suddenly doubt the politeness of your speech but no you were pretty sure that was the correct way to say it. 

 “I said ‘can your arm go in the water?’.”

 Oh.

 “No?” You were half sure it couldn’t. You haven’t really tested it since it was easier to bathe without it. She gives you a skeptical look and yanks your arm towards her. You yelp. “Hey! What are you-” Your throat tightens when you find yourself at the dock. It’s shaky. The slightest shifting made it move. 

 You turn your heel mumbling an apology but your arm is yanked back. The grip is stronger now. You look back and see two people holding on to it. “Let go!” you say, trying to wrench yourself free. “It’s- it’s not a toy,” you add but they don’t budge.

 “You’re being a baby!”

 “C’mon (y/n)!”

 “Let’s see how well robots can swim!”

 You scream as they throw you into the water. 

 You thrash your limbs around, grasping for something, anything but all you can feel is the viscous emptiness deforming and reforming with every splash. 

 You cry out. 

 The water muffles your screams along with the distant sound of laughter and heckling. 

 Your mouth is filling with water.

 Your lungs. Your lungs are burning. 

 Your chest aches. 

 You can’t breathe. 

 Help!

 Help!

 Please!

 Someone!

 It hurts. 

 Your vision is pulsing. The edges are going dark. 

 Your limbs are going numb and falling to pieces. 

 The world is sinking. 

It’s so dark. 

 It’s too cold. 

 Why are you alone?

 Where are they?

 You don’t want to die like this. 

 .

.

.

.

.

.

You feel a large hand fish you out by the scruff of your shirt. It tosses you onto the shore; the force as you hit the ground knocks the air (water?) out of your lungs. You heave, gasping like a fish. A large silhouette hangs over you, cold dread licks up your spine but you note a lack of panic. Maybe it was the lack of oxygen. 

 Your vision comes back in pieces and by the time the world puzzles back together, you’re alone. You’re alone and shivering like a wet rat. You look around, brushing wet hair out of your eyes and you realize you’re not entirely sure of the way back. You curl in on yourself. It does nothing to warm you but you were desperate to feel whole and safe and ok. 

 You aren’t entirely sure how long it is before Jon and Damian find you or just how they managed it but you’re thankful when someone drapes a heavy towel over your head, muffling the scattered sounds around you. Shakily, you pull the towel over your face. It hides the tears well enough. Your loose hanging limbs tighten around you. You want to shrink, small enough to smooth over the trembling in your body. You know they’ve saved people from drowning before. They’ve saved people from far worse. Heck, they’ve been through far worse. You desperately don’t want them to think of you as weak, as less but here you were trembling. You’re unable to steady your own breathing. Frustration rises in the back of your throat. It is a welcome change from the nonstop medley of panic that’s been shoved on you. 

 A hand settles itself on your head, the movement stiff, light, and controlled. The pressure increases a touch when you don’t protest. Damian radiates awkwardness as he attempts to ruffle your still-damp hair. You smile up at him through damp hair. Damian simply grunts as he continues to avoid eye contact by staring out at the empty lake. 

 Jon plops down next to you kicking his feet out in front of him. He gives your space but he’s just close enough for you to lean against if you wanted to. On his shoulder was your ratty oversized hoodie. You tug at his sleeve to ask for it. He hands it to you. You slip it on, not caring that you were still soggy. The familiar, loose weight of fabric against your skin made you feel whole and safe and marginally ok. 

 Jon presses a hand onto your back mimicking the experimental way Damian had patted your damp hair. He listens to the steadying rhythm of your heart, his own easing back into a calmer rhythm. Damian raises a brow at him and he gives him a thumbs up. Damian’s shoulders loosen and Jon can’t help the snort that comes out of him. You look at him startled and Damian gives him the ol’ Damian glare which makes him laugh out loud. Your eyes flicker to Damian and then roll your eyes, crow's feet wrinkling in the corners of your eyes. You twist your mouth into a weird squiggly line in an attempt to smother a laugh in fear of incurring Damian’s wrath. Jon highly doubts you’d be able to. Damian was, in fact, a big old softie. Sure, he acts grumpy all the time but spending so much time with both Dick and Faust has made him pretty mushy by bat standards but Jon wouldn’t dare say that out loud, at least, not when Damian looked this close to throwing him into the water. 

 You spend a long time soaking up the quiet before heading back. Jon slings an arm around you but pulls it back when he hears your heart stutter. You pinch and tug at his sleeve and mumble an apology.  You see Damian shoot Jon his version of the Pennyworth look. 

 “Sorry, (y/n).”

 “‘S ok,” you rasp quietly. 

 You three walk along the shore towards the cap. You feel too tired to even blanch at the odd feeling of wet socks as you pad along the path. You walk in silence which is interrupted by a bird call here and there with either you or Jon occasionally asking Damian to translate. He does but for some reason some odd reason, they keep calling you idiot or imbeciles. You watch Damian’s eyes flick here and there. You know he feels it too. The odd feeling of being watched. The rustle of leaves echoes eerily in the stillness. 

 The counselors, mercifully, let you skip out on the rest of the afternoon’s activities. You curl up in your cabin, warm and very comfortable in the pool of fabric created by one of Mr. Kent’s hoodies which Jon ‘accidentally’ packed. You rolled your eyes at him but accepted it gratefully. You make a mental note to thank him with the mill house cookies you ‘accidentally’ bought at one of the rest stops. 

 You flip through the yellowing pages of the book in your hand. You aren’t quite sure how to describe how inappropriate it is to give a drowning victim a book on the complete works of H.P. Lovecraft. Then again, it was better than reading Moby Dick. Plus, you’re enjoying yourself trying to find a man who is about as stealthy as a Green Lantern. You’ll have to ask Damian or Jon. Damian’s more likely to have met a Green Lantern but he’s also more likely to give you a boring and entirely inaccurate answer. 

 You go back to the fish people. Do Atlanteans walk like that? Maybe.  It feels odd somehow moving around without your prosthetic limb. Lighter but infinitely more unstable.  

 “Do you think they’ll find Cat?”

 Your ears perk up. Your eyes flick to the window and you see two counselors leaning against another cabin. You shuffle awkwardly somehow moving the mass of cloth quietly. You squish against the wall making sure they can’t see you. 

 “Cat just ran off. You know how she is.”

 “That’s what Raz said.”

 “Yeah, where is he?”

 “Who knows he’s probably just fucking around in the woods. Doing Bear Grylls shit or something.”

 “Hope he comes back soon.”

 “Do you really wanna deal with that horny jackass?”

 “No but he’s the only decent cook. Do you really wanna taste what awful concoction Ratty has for us?”

 Your stomach curdles remembering Ratty’s terrible improvisation of Doro Wat. Ratty said it was their grandmother’s recipe but you doubted it. Unlike the one Jason made for you one time, it was bland. It wasn’t even close to spicy. The vegetables were overcooked while the chicken was somehow undercooked. In short, you had nearly died twice since you got here. 

 “Nope. I’d rather starve. Isn’t their cooking like a human rights violation?”

 Starvation would be a kinder death. 

 “Yeah. Anyway, I tried asking Jos. Apparently, Raz and a bunch of the other Lil shits have been fucking around in town.”

 “Is that where Jackie disappeared to?”

 “Probably.”

 Ok, so the counselors have been dropping like flies and you have yet to notice. You should probably tell Damian and Jon. Something about this seems wrong. 

“Are you ever gonna stop glaring at them?” you ask, plopping on to the log letting your empty sleeve hang loosely off to your side. 

 “Depends, have they apologized?”

 “Ye-”

 “Sincerely?”

 “Well-”

 “Then no.”

 “Ok, but does Jon have to pout at them?”

 “I’m not pouting!”

 “Wait… That’s your glare?”

 “Yeah?” Jons says furrowing his brow. 

 “Batcow’s given me better glares!”

 “Again, (l/n) is right.”

 “Thank you!”

 “Dami, who’s side are you on?”

 Damian’s lips curl into a cat-like smile, the kind you saw on Selina. “Justice.”

 Jon throws his hands up defeated. You give Damian a low five as he settles beside you. Jon takes the seat on your other side still pouting. 

 "Do you kids know the rules to surviving a horror movie?" 

 The chattering dies down and you all fall silent, turning your full attention to the counselor. Your counselor lets out an absolutely delighted squeal, clapping their hands. You don’t miss the absolute dread on your other counselor’s face. 

 “Ok so, rule 1: Be a virgin-”

 “Ratty!” Dawes, the counselor with dread on her face, squeaks elbowing Ratty, Ratchet. “Couldn’t you have worded it differently or you know, not at all?!” Ratty, the horror enthusiast counselor, rubs their arm and sticks their tongue out at Dawes who looks like she’s going to age ten years during this conversation. 

 If you thought Dawes was pale before, she nearly turns transparent with the next few words that leave your mouth. “What’s a virgin?” you blurt out. You desperately want to curl in on yourself. It wasn’t that you didn’t know. It was just your mouth runs faster than your mind.  The kids around you snicker and one of the boys behind you claps you on the shoulder, laughing loudly. You lean on Damian, hiding behind him slightly. Damian shifts so he’s shielding you more.

 Dawes sputters out her answer.  It’s hard to understand. You watch the others searching for clues for an appropriate reaction. 

 “It’s a person who’s never had intercourse,” Damian deadpans and you nod quietly. 

 Dawes’ face lights up like a Christmas tree while Ratty’s twists into pure joy. Damian rolls his eyes as the other kids laugh even louder. It takes a moment but your cheeks heat up realizing the gap in your reaction must have given them the wrong idea. You pinch the bridge of your nose and you sigh. You see Jon snort at you and you stick your tongue out at him. 

 “See, Dawes, they know.”

 “What about keeping them innocent?!” 

  “I’m not getting paid to do that,” Dawes drags her hand over her face as Ratty shrugs,” ’sides, this is life skills.” Dawes slaps Ratty on the shoulder again making them whine at the impact.  “Ok. Ok. Fine. Fine. Jeez, you hit like a son of a- Oh wait, have any of you heard about Camp Blood?”

 This gets you all to quiet down. 

 “Camp Blood? Isn’t that like a video game?”  

 “It’s like a local ghost story isn’t it?”

 “Wasn’t that the one with the fish-”

 “It’s not the fish people.”

 “Let me tell the story!”

 “Ratty, you never tell the story well. You keep making weird voices and you can’t even keep a straight face.”

 “SLANDER,” Ratty shouts, throwing up their hands. 

 “Pffft, you also gonna tell us you can cook a 5-star meal?”

 “Ok. Ok. Fine. I’ll just tell it to them straight.”

 “What? As straight as Dawes?”

 “Pffft, we’d go in circles.”

 “Hey!”

 “It’s true!”

 “You don’t have to say it.”

 “What’s the thing about Camp Blood?” Jon pipes, putting a hand over Damian’s mouth probably sensing the sharp remark he’s about to say. Damian licks his hand and Jon pulls away waving his hand like he’s been burned.  You snort then blanch when Jon rubs the spit on to your hoodie. 

 “Gather round children-”

 “Ratty, they’re in a circle get on with it.”

 “I AM TRYING TO SET THE MOOD.”

 “Jesus, ok. So, a looong time ago there was this kid named Jason Voorhes. When two counselors were fu- OW! Jeez, Dawes- Ow! Ok, fine. While two counselors were distracted, he drowned-”

 “Sounds familiar,” snipes Damian. An apologetic look crosses Dawes’ face, a confused one on Ratty’s, and sheepish one on Jos’. You squeeze his and Jon’s shoulders. 

 Ratty shakes their head. “Anyway, they never find the body so his mom comes back and hacks the new counselors into pieces as some soft of demented justice for her kid.”

 “That’s a bit of an overreaction,” Jos laughs awkwardly. The glares on them do not waver. You elbow Damian and kick Jon’s foot. Damian ignores you while Jon gives you a look of mock hurt.  You roll your eyes at him and attempt to elbow Damian a second time. Again, nothing.

 “The thing is one of the counselors actually manages to decapitate Mrs. Voorhees. She disappeared two months after though. Legend has it that Jason still roams the grounds of Camp Blood seeking revenge for his mother.”

 The air is humming, thick with the roll of thunder and  the premonition of a storm. 

 There is a dislocation in the universe. 

 Your ears pop. 

 You look at Jon who looks vaguely like his mother when she’s sniffed out a story. You look at Damian who is already sussing out every detail of the story. Your eyes meet and you all nod. 

“It has to be someone using the urban legend as some sort of cover. Or! Or maybe they’re using the urban legend to mythologize their killings,” you say, through a mouth full of contraband chocolate chip cookies. 

 Damian snatches the package from you taking a piece.“(l/n), that’s ridiculous-”

 “Yeah, we don’t even know if they’re dead yet,” Jon protests, snatching the bag from a scowling Damian. 

 “What are the odds they’re still alive?” 

 You all fall silent. “We assume they’re still alive until we see proof of the contrary,” Damian says firmly. You and Jon nod. The movement feels heavy.  

 “But what if the Jason ghost is a real thing?”

 “Possible.”

 “(l/n), don’t indulge him.”

 “Jon is literally part alien,” you protest

 “Jason has come back from the dead and Faust literally has moving tattoos,” Jon adds.

 “YOUR DAD IS LITERALLY BEST FRIENDS WITH A 5000-YEAR-OLD AMAZONIAN AND A DUDE WHO CAN LIFT BUILDINGS.”

 “Ok, fine but we should eliminate the more mundane explanations first,” Damian concedes accepting another cookie. 

 “I think we have. It’s too rapid and obvious to be a human trafficking operation.”

 “We should find the counselors first.”

 “Yeah, that’s a start.”

 “Where should we start?”

 “Abandoned cabins would be a good start,” you suggest trying not to perk up. 

 Damian glares at you and you wither. “(l/n), you’re not coming with us.”

 “You say this like (y/n)’s gonna listen,” Jon laughs. 

 “ET has a point,” you say, grinning and opening another packet. You offer Jon the first cookie as thanks. 

 “Can’t I at least be a cool alien?”

 “Nope.”

 “Will you two focus?”

 “Yeah. No.”

 Damian pinches his nose. You completely understand why people think Damian makes a convincing fifty year old. “(l/n)...”

 “Ok, fiiiine. I’ll stay out of it.”

 “Don’t even think about sneaking out.”

 You frown and nod. 

 You tiptoe through the brush, one metallic arm wrapped around you, the other hanging limply to your side flashlight clasped tight in your metallic hand.  Camp Blood isn’t too far. You silently survey a few cabins finding nothing particularly interesting aside from cobwebs and potentially dead animals. The air is musty and decayed. You sniff and rub your nose as you walk through the camp guided only by strips of moonlight. If you were to run into a murderer now, you would only have your flashlight to defend you. You didn’t like those odds. 

 You’re a deer in headlights. 

 Dry mouth. 

 Skin going cold. 

 A scream burbling in the back of your throat. 

 The lumbering figure is coming closer. 

 You know he can see you. 

 Your feet are fused to the ground. 

 The light of the machete winking at you from a distance. 

 The world turns into a blur when your back hits the rotting wood of the abandoned cabin. 

 “What did I say about sneaking out?” Damian hisses, arm pressed on your neck. You blink. A flood of relief crowds your chest. 

 You sling your arms around him and he stiffens. You explain away the surprised little yelp as something animal and not something from your friend. “I didn’t sneak out. I went to the bathroom then I wandered off,” you mumble. 

 “How exactly is that different?” 

 “Less tiptoeing.” 

 "Funny."

 "It is."

 "Have you seen Kent?"

 "Sadly no."

 "Shit- Don't tell Grayson."

 "The fact that you swore or the fact that you somehow lost Superman's kid" 

 He glares at you and you can't help but shrug. 

 "Both." 

 "Fair," you say, pausing for half a breath.”Did you find the hostages?”

 Damian’s face falls then hardens then you know better than to ask him.  

 “We should find Jon,” Damian says finally. You flick your eyes and shake your head pushing down the urge to make fun of his slip. You’ll tell Jon later. 

 You two walk together, shoes in hand. It was easier. Maybe after this, you’ll ask Tim to teach you how to sneak around. 

 The sound of crashing wood fills the still night air. You and Damian freeze. 

 “JON.” Damian is the first to launch himself towards a cabin. You shamble behind him, plodding through the muddy earth as fat droplets of rain splashing down.   You would have blanched at the squishing but all you could think about was Jon.  

“Jon!”

 “Dami! (y/n)!”

 “Are you ok?”

 “I’m in a hole. What do you think?”

 You look him over as best you can in the dark. Damian seems to be having a better time. “You’re not in pain, so yeah.”

 Jon huffs, shifting around in the pile of clothes. His nose wrinkles.“This jumper smells like something died in it," he says holding up a particularly old looking sweater. It's blotchy with various stains around the neck. 

 “Check for a pulse!” you shout, earning a sharp jab to the rib from Damian. You glare and rub your chest.

“Guys, I don’t wanna alarm you but I’m pretty sure there’s a decapitated head down here”

 “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” Damian asks incredulously. Your skin drains of all color and warmth. 

 “Do you want the good news or bad news?”

 “That’s not-”

 “Where in that pile of bloody clothes did you get good news?”

 “Good news is he’s not here,” Jon says, eyes sweeping around.”Bad news, he’s actually real.”

 “Stop messing around and get out of there, Kent!”

 “Jon, come on! Fly or something!”

 “My powers are going-” Jon jumps. But only manage to just fall back down. “I can’t fly.”

 Damian groans. He pinches his nose and goes off to look for something to pull Jon up with.

 “Why do you think your powers aren’t working?”

 Jon shrugs. “Magic?” This place is cursed. 

 “We are dealing with a ghost,” you shrug back. You all freeze. The sound of distant footsteps making your heart race.

 “Dami!” you hiss, over your shoulder. 

 “I can’t find anything!”   

 “Wait,” you say, unfastening your arm and reaching down to Jon. Damian grabs hold of it with both hands and you two start pulling Jon up. 

 The footsteps are getting louder, closer. 

 "Hurry!" you hiss quietly. 

 Your hearts are racing. 

 You pull, Jon getting closer. 

 He’s almost in arm’s reach. 

 The man is getting closer. 

 You can hear his breathing. 

 You pull Jon up, feet kicking. You wrestle him into a hug with one arm, making a little happy squeal into his hair low enough that only they can hear. Damian nudges you with your arm. 

 “Well that was scary,” Jon whispers into your shoulder. Damian smacks him upside the head. You laugh but cut yourself off when you see Damian stiffen. “RUN!”

 You all scramble up and begin to dash away. You look back over your shoulder, machete winking at you, hockey mask visible in the dim light. 

 You stumble, feet getting tangled in roots. You yelp,  bracing for impact and possibly dying.  You feel arms scoop you up. You squeak. “No one gets left behind, soldier,” Jon says grinning. 

 “How are you still a goof when we’re about to die?” you laugh incredulously. 

 “He clearly gets it from his father.”

 “ Pfffft, probably or maybe it's an alien thing.”

 “Are you really gonna make fun of me, right now?” Jon protests, shouting over the rain. 

 “You two! This way!” Damian points to a small hole in the hillside.

 “I’m too tall for that!” Damian glares.

 You snort. “Just duck.” Jon scowls at you then sighed. 

 You all slide into a small crevice and hunched together. 

 “What’s the plan?”

 “Jon, are your powers working?”

 “Kind of?”

 “Ok, that’s one thing we have going for us,” Damian hands you a phone. "You call while we distract him." 

 "Why do you have to distract him?" 

 "Ask him yourself, (l/n)."

 Your eyes sweep up to the tall figure. Your mouth goes completely dry. 

 "Fuck." 

 Jason brings his machete down in a swift arc light. You grab Damian by the scruff of his shirt. The machete embeds itself into the wall, getting caught in the process. Your moment of relief doesn’t last long when Jason lunges for you.  You scream as he catches your arm. With a soft click it detaches and you scramble away and out the hole into the pouring rain. He’s hot on your heels. You hear a loud thud. You look over your shoulder. Jon’s resting against the wall, head slumped. You see him throw Damian to the ground. You call 9-11 as you hurl your shoe at him. The dial tone is ringing. When you look up again, Jason is heading towards you. You stumble barefoot trying to get away. Predictably, you fall, foot catching on another tangle of roots.  

  “Hello? Hello? Is anyone out there?”

 “Please help,” you whisper as Jason raises your arm to the sky. Your life flashes through like a film reel. Your breath is caught. Lightning flashes. 

 You watch the lightning cut through the heavens. The silver streak of light connecting might your arm and by extension Jason.  The arm explodes. Shrapnel flies everywhere. Jason bursts into flames. The smell of burning flesh cutting through the air. You watch in open-mouthed horror as another bolt of lightning hits. He falls body fried to a crisp. You wretch the smell still strong. 

 "Kid! Kid! Are you ok?" 

 "No…" you gasp, bile lining the back of your throat, "please,hurry. We're at Camp Blood." 

You’re cold and wet and forced to huddle into one blanket since the officer who responded only had one on hand.  Damian is talking on the phone. It’s hard to make out amidst the pouring rain, so you settle in letting Jon rest his head on your shoulder as he drifts to sleep. The officer said the rest of the force is coming to collect the bodies. The camp is most likely gonna be shut down for the summer. You weren’t keen on spending the entire summer with your cousins. 

 “I’ve informed father that you’re staying with us for the rest of the summer.”

 “Informed?” you laugh, relieved, ”good luck telling Jon that.”

 You both eye him. Jon snores into your ear and you can’t help but smile. “He’ll be fine.”

   Bonus

 The map in Jon’s hands crinkles loudly as he shuffles through it trying to find the correct route. You know the route. You memorized it before you even set off. You did it instead of studying for finals. It was certainly more entertaining than studying for a US history final when you already knew it was just gonna be about the American Revolution, World War II, and probably the Vietnam war. You hold back the snicker threatening to spill from your lips when, with each crinkle of the Dollar Store map, Damian’s brow twitched. Yes, this was the purpose of the map. It was most certainly doing its job well. 

 “You think they’ll still have the same dumb camp activities?”

 “You say this like you weren’t squealing to try all of them.”

 “Was not!”

 “Dunno,  Jon,  Dami has a pretty good memory.”

 Your car rolls to a stop in front of a cross-section. You drum your fingers against the steering wheel before you let curiosity override your self-preservation. 

 “How did you convince Dami to come along?”

 Jon tilts his head at you in question. “I didn’t,” he says slowly, “I thought you did.”

 Your passenger goes deadly silent. You both twist your bodies to look at him. Jon gives him a knowing smile while you give him a reassuring one that says ‘it’s ok you can tell us’. Damian avoids all eye contact like the plague, glaring at the window like there’s a particularly interesting speck of dust on it.  

 His eyes narrow. And you have the odd urge to follow his gaze. 

 The trees shift. 

 The pressure in the car builds. 

 Jon’s laughter stalls. 

 A shape flickers in the distance. 

 Your ears pop. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

a/n: THANKS FOR READING! Yes, reader has a prosthetic limb because I was reading 3 birds. Also, this can be treated as pre-slash. Epilogue is up for interpretation. Probably. Also fun fact, Faust is the basis for merc reader. I could not resist putting her in. 

Tag list:  @batarella, @anothertimdrakestan, @lucy-roo, @multifandomgirl-us, @idkmanicantenglish,@birdy-bat-writes,  @boosyboo9206, @americasmarauders , @l-inkage, @arestorationofbalance , @cloudie-skay, @wunderstell @hyp-oh-critical

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #jon kent imagine #jon kent x reader #damian wayne imagine #batboys x reader #batfamily x reader

[riverdale-retread]

Riverdale S5 Ep 11. (The Voicemail Episode) -  5 things I loved/ 3 Things to Consider (potentially, spoilers)

Things I Loved:

1. I loved that Riverdale, this (formerly) teen show, was blatantly making a radical commentary about both religion and male violence, but in this sneaky way with a ‘silly’ looking trippy drugged-out music video.   The statement is this: Religion = Drugs = Righteous Violence of Young Men.   Marx said that religion is the opiate of the masses, and Riverdale answered, Nah, it's more like shrooms. 

And in fact, according to the show, being two sweet girls hanging out dancing and having fun is better than religion and righteous violence.  Further, violence is Archie’s drug.  I mean this is a set of pretty bold statements, people.  I will also add the crazy young man vigilantes of Riverdale making the Batman rope-slide entrance was fabulous, but I also liked that the music made fun of them, like, Y’all think you’re being heroic but this is so dumb.   

2. If you read my retread of Seasons 1 through 4  (the true ending, which was “Graduation”) you’ll know that I love scenes of Jughead Jones waking up from sleep.  He’s so good at it, and I don't know if my abiding interest in this specific thing elevates this to some sort of kink but  I’m ok with that, if it is. (Please tell me in the comments if Watching a Cute Boy Wake Up From Sleep is an actual kink.)  In this episode, Jughead is startled awake by a loud noise from a fevered sleep, and then becomes gradually more alarmed at the noises outside and I loved it. 

3. This is not an anti-man blog here, so I will try to tread carefully, but I mean, I absolutely loved that the women are so much better than the men at everything in this episode. 

Exhibit A:

Penelope’s cult is so much better than Edgar Evernever’s!  And she is being so honest - Penelope always emotionally worshiped her son, like a lot of misogynist mothers of sons do, and now she’s literally worshiping him.  Also a religion that is founded on a deceased person is much sturdier, I feel, than a religion that is like Worship Me (which is Edgar’s religion).  Plus Penelope is echoing what Jughead used to say about Jason - that his death laid bare the sins of Riverdale!   There’s robes in Penelope’s religion, colorful ones, singing and communion and imbibing from a magic goblet. (Can you tell I was raised Catholic? I still love statuary, robes and altars SO much).

Exhibit B:

 Tabitha and Betty are so much better than Jughead at everything, including getting high!  (Jughead is currently just so bad at life he can’t even get high correctly, poor lamb.)  They are better at taking care of their domestic lives and are appalled at how Jughead lives. Tabitha modeling openness and transparency for Betty was terrific:  She asks Betty for help and makes sure to  tell her, though it’s difficult, about that ‘don’t be such a Betty’ comment and the fact that Jughead made a pass at Tabitha, so that she can make her decision to participate with the full set of relevant facts.   Betty’s reaction of wtf?? followed by snorting and then moving right on - I like grown up Betty SO much. She knows it’s not true - they always had fun together, did Bughead, so she’s like, That’s a weird thing to say and then SHRUG.  

Exhibit C:

Even when burly men are in a violent confrontation in this episode, the mastermind for both teams is a woman - Veronica on one side, Darla on the other.  

4. I loved the two voicemails from Jughead.  Yes yes, of course I would because #Jughead Stan but also - hear me out! - because they rang so emotionally true for me, and showed the difference between still-adolescent Jughead and the now-more-adult Jughead. 

First, the one to Tabitha:  These mushrooms make people say & do what they really think, apparently, so Jughead hit on Tabitha because he’s really attracted to her, and his non-defensive, roll-with-punches adult-self apologizing in this abashed but not self-hating way, and the way he is still hopeful that he stands a chance, was lovely.  

The weepy, upset voicemail to Betty was expert fan service for the Jughead Stans, but it was thrilling for everyone else too if  the HUGE amount of chatter about it is anything to go by. (Not all thrills are pleasant).   I think it’s because there was a lot of truth packed into both his voicemail and her reaction (while high, but again, the mushrooms make you tell your truth).  

Truth 1:  It’s important to express yourself when you’re upset.  Otherwise it comes bursting out at the wrong time, like pus from a festering wound, in a way that helps no one and may hurt you the most.  Truth 2:  Having an ex hung up on you is no fun.   Truth 3: Being confronted with an utterance like, I regret THE ENTIRE time I’ve known you, can make you lose perspective, as in, Betty playing that voicemail isn’t a serve on anyone other than herself and Jughead, together, and that’s why the kind Tabitha won’t bring it up again. 

There is SO MUCH discourse about that word “bitch” and a lot of it is very well argued, but I feel no urge to pick a side. What *I* have to say about that is, Jughead using that word in that way with that tone definitively marked an end of Bughead 1.0.  If there’s going to be a Bughead 2.0, it’s going to have to be really different.  

5.   I love the character set ups for Reggie and Fangs. Fangs first - is this guy like the world’s most perfect ex boyfriend or what? Fangs is infinitely kind to Kevin.  And Reggie - he’s abused by his dad but he is also loyal to his dad, working for “a Lodge” which he doesn’t actually seem to like in the little that he says about it, to ‘pay off’ his Dad’s debt.   I like the adult that Reggie has become.  “This isn’t high school.”   His calm “Nah, the bad guys pay better” felt like a breath of fresh bracing cynical air but then the actor also managed to push my But I Can Fix Him buttons so kudos, to you, good sir.  

3 Things to Think About

a)Veronica is told it's the DIVORCE that is making Archie not want sex but please recall that the Riverdale High School is decimated and Archie is in the process of putting his genitals  - oops sorry - THE BUILDING back together.  He doesn't have a libido without the Riverdale High School building. I've been telling you.

b)Tabitha voluntarily enters into an agreement to lie (by omission) to Jughead about the manuscript handover to Jessica and the playing of the voicemail message. She doesn't know this yet but so far a rule of Riverdale is that you must not lie to Jughead or bad things happen. Interested to see if the rule still holds for Adult Jughead.

c) The show is very much doubling down on the fact that they think using other people’s lives as fiction is absolutely unforgivable.  Riverdale absolutely hates drug dealers (which is why the Serpents are alcohol runners, and kicked out drug dealers) and yet even though Jessica is totally a drug dealer that Betty Cooper fake-FBI knows is a drug dealer, AND  SHE NON CONSENSUALLY DRUGGED TWO WOMEN WHO SAID NO ALREADY, but the fact that she didn’t want her life used in a fictional outlet trumps literally everything.

#Riverdale Positivity #riverdale s5 #Jughead Jones Voicemail #Bughead Voicemail #Season 5b is FINALLY airing in my region and I am so thrilled to be getting my Riverdale content again #i love this show so much #it cheers me up and distracts me from the badness in the world #and it's great! i love riverdale without irony or distance or sneering #these are also getting really long again #why can't i be concise

[scoophilia]

Hiccup watched the furies from the window, dancing in place. His face hurt from an ear splitting grin. “I can't believe it! He's not the only one! This is amazing!” He said all giddy.

Astrid hummed in acknowledgment. As she placed the basket next to the hearth. Strong arms wrap around her suddenly, picking her up. Hiccup spun them around laughing.

“H-Hey! I know you're excited but PUT ME DOWN!” Astrid yelled, still smiling. They slowed to a stop and Astrid steadied herself when her feet touched solid earth. Hiccup pulled her close. Resting his chin on her shoulder, he sighed happily, then he murmured something against her neck.

“Speak up lad! Can't hear ye through the lass,” Gobber piped up, as he stoked the hearth.

“Oh sorry,” Hiccup said, lifting his face clear, “I said: we found another night fury! A female one at that! Toothless may be a dad this Snoggletog. Think of what we could learn from her, the kids, her pack, and-”

Astrid pulled way and turned to face him. She held her hands up.

“Woa, woa, Hiccup! Look, I get you're excited, but-”

“But what? Aren't you happy?”

“Of course I am, but let's be realistic. They might not become mates,” she cupped his face as his jaw dropped, “not cause Tooth isn't amazing, he is, but they might not pair up. Or she has a mate already. She coupld be alone too, we just don't know. I just don't- don't want you to get your hopes too high...”

Silence.

Brows furrowed together, Hiccup pulled away. “How can you even say that, Astrid? We found another after so long. If there's even one, there's a chance! And besides, look at all we've done,” he made a sweeping gesture towards Berk, “In five years dragons and vikings are living side by side. We stopped a madman for Thor's sake.”

“Hiccup, I know that! We don't know anything bout her. She could be the only one.”

“We thought the same for Toothless. It's unknown, yes, but that just means we gotta keep pushing forward! That's how we found her. There could be more and even something greater than that. Anything is possible....Right?” His voice dropped to a whisper.

Astrid stared up at him quietly. Crossing her arms tight, she sighed deeply before plastering a smile on her face, “you're right. If we found her after pushing forward, anything can happen!”

Joy flashed across Hiccup's face at this, until a loud chirp came from behind. Stormfly had poked her head through the window, chirping once more. Then squeakier chirps followed. Smaller Nadder heads peeked above the windowsill, and Astrid bit back a laugh.

“That's my cue,” Astrid said. A quick kiss to Hiccup's cheek before she walked over shoving the Nadder's head out the window muttering to herself. She looked over her shoulder grinning, “They wanna train now. Just like their mother. See ya later!” Astrid vaulted herself out the window and disappeared.

“Hmph!”

Hiccup spun around at the noise. From his spot at the hearth Gobber had scrunched up his nose, and not at the fire. The smith wasn't facing it. “Does that always happen?” He asked.

Another grunt came from him when he saw Hiccup eyes widened in confusion. Hiccup blinked owlishly at his mentor. Before he can speak, Gobber asked, “Does the lass always agree wit' ya?”

His hands flexed, then clenched at his sides as Hiccup gritted his teeth at the accusation. He sucked in a deep breath and lets it out slow. Finally he says, “don't like what you're insinuating, Gobber. This is Astrid, she doesn't agree with just anyone. She trusts me. Besides, she wouldn't just bend to make me happy.”

Gobber sighed, setting the bellows down. He shifted to face Hiccup and as he opened his mouth, a difference voice called out.

“You're too used to how Stoick and I were, Gobber. They're not the same.” They both turned to see Valka walking in.

Gobber said, “right, of course...” he then rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath, “ye...easy te forget when ya vanish for twenty years....”

“What was that, dear?” Valka asked.

“Nothin'.” Gobber muttered, poking the hearth again. Hiccup shot a warning look at Gobber. He was given a grunt. Hiccup sighed then smiled upon seeing his mother. Valka made her way over, eyes roaming the house.

“I came over te see how our new resident was doing. Didn' see her outside. I thought she might be in here.” Valka said.

Shaking his head, Hiccup said, “nah, she left with Toothless. Think he's showing her around.”

His gaze turned to the window where he stared long and hard. His lips twitched at the corners. Eyes twinkling, he spun on his heel and ran up the steps to his bedroom, grinning as he made a beeline for his desk. There, a notepad. He snatched it up before running back down, taking two steps at a time. Grinning ear to ear, he rushed by his mother and Gobber. The latter stared at him, gobsmacked. Hiccup gave a wave as he walked out the door. Gobber and Valka exchanged a single look.

Valka sighed and said, “I figured, knowing my son.”

She got up to follow her son.

Gobber sighed heavy and deep before his head rolled back groaning. He forced himself to his feet, dusting the hearth and killing the fire, then he fumbled after them, all the while muttering under his breath, “my son, she says. If he's anyone's son he's MY son...”

Pushing himself through the crowd of vikings and dragons after the sound of Hiccup's voice, Gobber found himself near the feeder station. The smith scratched his head. Gobber barely looked to his left when something pulled him down to the ground. A curse bubbled in his throat until he saw who did it.

“Hiccup...” Gobber whispered.

Knelt below the rim of the station, Hiccup's head peeking over it and Valka copied his stance. He shot a glance at his friend. He grinned, then pointing ahead. Gobber grumbled as he reposition himself to mirror him and Valka. Across the way they saw Toothless and the female fury walking by, mouths moving with wings and tails twitched. A prance was in Toothless' steps, and the female held her head a bit higher.

A loud screech echoed through the area then, and a swarm of Hideous Zippleback came soaring down across the rooftops. Several Terrible Terrors scattered from Gothi's roof, dropping to the ground where they scampered past Toothless and the Fury. The female dropped to the ground, eyes the size of dinner plates before they disappeared behind her wings.

Hiccup braced his hands on the feeder, ready to vault himself over, but Valka yanked him back by his shirt. He looked at his mother, stunned. She shook her head before pointing, “you'll scare her worse. And Toothless is already handling it, see?”

When they looked back, they saw Toothless knelt down and his mouth moving. Slowly inch by inch the Fury uncovered herself, blinking owlishly around her. Toothless warbled something at the Zipplebacks. As one, the group tilted their heads before bowing deeply them. The heads exchanged a small look before barreling over to the two Furies, and their forms were swallowed by the larger dragons. A roar broke up it all up and the group scattered into different directions. Toothless emered snorting in annoyance, then he looked down to see...the Fury hadn't moved.

Brow raised, Hiccup scratched his chin while tapping his fingers. He tried to push himself to his feet, but his mother, yet again, pulled him down. She gently whispered something in his ear, and his shoulders slump as he nodded. She then slipped away from them, off to who knows where. Gobber shuffled closer to Hiccup. The sparkle in the boy's eyes had faded as had his smile turned upside down.

“What did she say, lad?” Gobber asked.

Quietly, Hiccup said, “she'll handle it...she's the expert...”

Gobber opened his mouth, venom on the tip of his tongue. A shadow fell over them, and they both looked up to see Cloudjumper and Valka walking by. Gobber internally rolled his eyes. The big grump would be of no help in Gobber's honest opinion. He looked over to Hiccup, ready to say this, but forced it down the second he saw Hiccup beaming at his mother.

So they watched from their spot as Cloudjumper made his way to Toothless and the other Fury, the latter staring up at Toothless, too focused on him to even notice the new dragon approaching. Toothless' expression changed into a gummy smile and the Fury cocked her head, then followed his line of sight. Her jaw dropped as her head tilted upwards to Cloudjumper's face.

She screamed.

Then she ran.

Cloudjumper stumbled and fell backwards, wings flailing, and Valka jumped out of the way of his tail. Terrors flew off in droves from rooftops, and vikings nearby slammed their hands over the ears and any dragons that could did the same. Hiccup nearly jumped out of his skin. Gobber facepalmed. Toothless followed in pursuit, crying out for her.

The Fury ran through the splitting crowd, not even looking with her eyes squeezed shut. She slammed hard into someone and bounced off like rubber, landing flat on her back. Head spinning, she looked up to see Hookfang and his rider glaring down at her. The Nightmare's nostrils flared.

She gasped hard, a scream building in her throat. Toothless slapped a paw over her mouth. Toothless squinted his eyes at his friend, a growl rumbled from within. Hookfang rolled his eyes, but wandered away from them, Snotlout looking back only once with a sneer. When out of sight, Toothless sighed before he led the Fury away with one wing shielding her from the stares and whispers echoing through the village square.

Looks were exchanged, then all eyes turned towards Hiccup. The chief rose to stand and stated aloud, “she's new and got scared. Let's just let it be, return to what you were doing. Please.”

The crowd slowly began to disperse. Hiccup sighed, rubbing the back of his head, and looked over at his mother who was tending to Cloudjumper. She looked over, simply nodding.

“Never thought a'hd see the day. A Night Fury, being a coward!” Gobber blurted out as he got to his feet. Hiccup shot him a look. Gobber tossed his hands up and said, “oh come on! Ye saw it wit ye own eyes! And no, let Tooth handle it. You and me, we're gonna do some work!”

Hiccup's protests died on his lips as Gobber dragged him away by the collar. The quiet walk to the forge was filled with Hiccup talking a mile a minute bout what happened and Gobber nodding his head. Grump's snores bellowed out from the forge as they grew closer, and once there, Gobber handed Hiccup a saddle and hammer. Hiccup sighed, shaking his head. Gobber moved towards the back to gather more materials and check his dentistry schedule, and they settled into a steady rhythm. Three hammers on rivets into leather melded with the three taps of a dragon tooth being reset.

A familiar warble over the noise caught Hiccup's attention. He poked his head out to see Toothless walking over...with the Fury by his side! Hiccup grinned, and watched with glee as the two “talked”. The Fury's head hung low, yet her eyes sparkled like the sea as she took in the forge. At the doorway, he met up with Toothless.

Toothless bumped his head gently into Hiccup who patted his friend's neck. The Fury sat behind them, and curiosity flashed across her face. Toothless turned around to face her. Bobbing his head at Hiccup, he curled a wing around his friend. The Fury blinked once. Twice. Hiccup felt his breath hitch in his throat as she took a step towards them, him.

“I told ya to keep the kilns goin', Grump! Ya lazy beast!”

Loud grunts proceeded a sudden blast, and a burst of fire explodes behind the duo. Hiccup and Toothless spun around to see Gobber waddling out covered in soot. The smith grinned awkwardly.

Shrieks erupted from behind, and they spun around to see the Fury hissing and flapping her wings at them. Hiccup went to take a step towards her till light caught his eye, and the blood drained from his face.

“Toothless...YOUR TAIL!” he yelped.

The dragon snapped to attention, and found his fin ablaze. He slammed his tail several times on the ground to try and put it out and Hiccup bolted from his spot. He stomped on the fin (with his proper boot) before ripping it off with his bare hands. He quickly tossed it to the center of the road and the fire fizzled out as the flame hit the dirt.

Panting heavily, Hiccup looked at Toothless who looked back at him. The friends shared a sigh of relief.

A scream of rage filled the air. The Fury tackled Hiccup to the ground, her paws pressed against his throat. She opened her mouth, bulding up fire and Hiccup gulped.

Toothless let out a deafening roar. The Fury began to shake as her neck twisted to face the sound. Hiccup caught a glimpse of her muscles in her neck twitch and flex, her eyes bulging wide while her pupils turned to slits. He swore he heard her heart skip a beat.

With his wings flared open, his teeth bared, and an ethereal blue aura glowing along the length of his spikes, Toothless growled. The fury never looked away as her body moved on its own.

Hiccup jumped up, rushing to Toothless. He wrapped Toothless' head in a gentle hug, stroking his head soothingly, and only then did Toothless begin to relax. The blue aura disappeared a moment later. He said softly, “it's ok, bud, it's ok. Thanks bud, I'm ok really. Don't gotta go alpha, she didn't know. She wanted to protect you, right little la-” Hiccup stopped mid sentence when he looked at her.

The Fury stared without blinking, her body frozen. Her knees buckled. She dropped to the cold earth with a thud. ~~~~~ Been a hot minute since last update. Some drama happened in life, which put me in a rut and sense of dread. Am working on it tho! I'm still working on the story; got an outline to work with. Though next update may come out much later. Decided to write out the entirety of Starcrossed then do the art for it. Can post it consecutively rather than randomly. So stay tuned for that owo Thank y'all who read the story. Please leave your thoughts on it! I appreciate constructive criticism too. HTTYD belongs to Dreamworks while Legacy & Midnight belong to me.

#how to train your dragon #toothless #hiccup horrendous haddock iii #Astrid Hofferson #hiccstrid #Valka haddock #gobber the belch #night fury #dragons #artists on tumblr #small artist

[cellard0ors]

Fic: Movement (3/?)

For @peachworthy (The tale continues!) Part 1 here, Part 2 here

Link’s doing his best to tip toe in. It was a long night at the café he’s currently working at and he doesn’t want to wake Rhett. True, his roommate’s hours are strange (to say the least) but it’s always been ingrained in Link to be as respectful as possible.

Mrs. Neal raised her boy to be polite and one of the heights of good manners is not charging into the house you share with someone else in the middle of the night, raising a ruckus.

But as Link edges towards his room, he notices a glow coming from the living room and finds himself unable to not take a peek. Maybe Rhett left the television on?

Yet when he gets closer he sees that while yes, the television is on, it’s not because Rhett forgot about it. Rhett is actually in front of it, but not watching it. Instead his eyes are downcast and…wet.

A light sniffle comes from him and he runs the back of his right hand beneath his nose as if to wipe at it. Link can just barely make out a paper in his left hand when Rhett senses him.

Rhett turns and blinks, folding the paper up and clearing his throat, doing his best to sound amiable even despite the clear note of tears in his voice, “Oh! Hey, man! Didn’t know you were home.”

“Yeah,” Link says softly, “Had to stay late. Boss wanted to do a deep clean on the place after we closed,” he then adds cautiously, “You okay?”

Rhett looks back to his letter than to Link again as if internally debating something. Finally he comes back with, “Yeah. Kinda.”

He holds the letter up, “Got a message from my Momma.”

Link can only offer a sound of acknowledgement, not certain where to go from here. Rhett shifts about on the couch and Link takes it as a signal for him to come over, so he does, sitting across from his friend.

Rhett lowers the letter, but plays around with it, turning the carefully folded rectangle of paper over and over in his hands, “First time I’ve heard from her in a long time.”

“Good?” Link feels stupid and kind of helpless, but he’s trying and this is the only thing he can think to offer. Rhett sniffs again, but his lips twitch as if to smile, as if he recognizes that Link is doing his best, “I suppose. Looks like my brother got married awhile ago. Dad’s alright, stuff like that.”

“I see.”

“They’re still living in the same place. Mom changed jobs, but she likes the new one more. They adopted a dog and-and…” he sighs and just tosses the letter on the nearby coffee table, linking his fingers together to tuck his hands behind his head.

He lets out shaky breath, eyes directing upwards towards the ceiling as if to stave off more potential tears, “They’re fine…”

Link licks his lips, feels awkward and awful, and can only manage to say Rhett’s name before Rhett’s hands lower and he curls in on himself – his tall lanky form growing small as he whispers to the floor, “…totally fine…without me.”

That alone breaks Link. Without a second thought he moves over, draws Rhett close and hugs him tight. The bigger man lets himself be held, lets Link gather him up like a small child and rock him as he silently weeps.

Link murmurs nonsense into his hair for a while, little things like ‘it’s alright’ and ‘it’ll be okay’ and he doesn’t know if he’s doing more harm than good until he feels Rhett’s tense body begin to uncoil, begins to hear his breathing smoothing out.

Once he feels like Rhett’s doing better, he releases him – gets up and finds some tissues, a wet warm washcloth and a glass of water. He offers it all silently to Rhett, who takes it – using the washcloth to wipe his face clean, the tissues to finish up the job. He finishes more than half the glasses of water before he mumbles, “Sorry about that.”

“You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for, bo.” Link doesn’t know where the endearment comes from. He hasn’t used it in ages and just as he’s about to explain it, Rhett lets out a broken bubble of laughter, “‘Bo’? Oh, man…haven’t heard that in an age.”

Link offers an apology but Rhett waves it off, “Nah, Link. I…I like it. I’ll be your ‘bo’.”

And then he turns vulnerable green eyes on him as he asks quietly, “Mean…if you’ll be mine.”

This is, of course, when Link knows his crush is over. It’s over because he’s now completely and totally in love with Rhett and he swallows thickly, even as he nods, “Yeah. Of course.”

“Good.” Rhett nods to himself as if they’ve just made a blood pact or something and he looks at the television which is just showing some random commercials. He gestures to it, “How’s about we watch something, huh? Get our minds on something else.”

By ‘our’ Link recognizes he probably means himself in particular, because Rhett can’t possibly know about the revelation Link’s just had, yet he feels a little too…seen. He bites his bottom lip hard and – even though he knows he shouldn’t – finds himself playing the part of devil’s advocate, “We can – or you can tell me if you plan on writing back.”

Rhett sits up straight, eyes wide, and Link wouldn’t be surprised if the man snaps at him. Link feels like a total jerk – just because he’s realized he’s in love with Rhett doesn’t mean he should hurt him this way, and, he knows that’s the real reason he said what he did. A sort of, ‘please-push-me-away’ move.

But he did anyway and now he braces for an argument, an insult – something. But then, much to his surprise, Rhett says hollowly, “I don’t know.”

Link presses his luck, “Mean, if she wrote you…think it means she misses you…”

Rhett snorts, “Doubt it. Probably just felt a bout of guilt. Thought she should reach out to her black sheep son.”

“Or maybe she wants to hear from you,” Link offers, “Know you’re alright.”

“Yeah and what am I supposed to write?” Rhett grumbles, “‘Hey Ma, I’m doing good. I filmed a three way yesterday – how ‘bout you?’”

“…a three way?” Link repeats, but Rhett continues on as if he didn’t hear him, “It’s not like I can tell her or-or any of them what I’ve been up to. I don’t think many parents like to brag about their kid’s accomplishments when that accomplishment is DPing a woman while making out with a guy at the same time.”

Link wants to ask what ‘DPing’ is, but he thinks he has an idea and it’s probably best not to get too in depth (pun not intended) on that, as he instead takes a different route, “It’s not like you have to tell her about your job. You can just say you’re in LA, you’re healthy, you got a fantastically handsome roommate named Link…”

That makes Rhett laugh, but in a good way, some of his ire easing, “‘Fantastically handsome’, huh?”

Link spreads his hands out, “What can I say? I’m truthful.”

Rhett chuckles some more and shakes his head, “Nah, I mean – sure, I can tell her all that, but if we…if we do reconnect, I’m just-? I’m afraid it’s going to come up.”

“Thought you said you aren’t ashamed of what you do.”

“I’m not,” Rhett affirms, “But she’s my mom. They’re my family. You know that and I know you get why it’s not something I want them to know about…”

“Well, I mean, I could tell you to get another job, but if this is what you like doing-!”

Rhett gets up from the couch and starts pacing, “It’s not that I like doing it. It’s that I’m good at it. And, like I’ve told you – good money, good co-workers,” he sighs and his pacing picks up pace, “I mean, granted, I’m getting on in years and I can’t do this forever and I always did plan on getting out when I, y’know, found someone.”

Someone not you, a thought hisses in Link’s ear and he almost physically swats out at it as Rhett continues, “‘Cause it’s not like I’d want to be in a relationship and do…what I do. It’d feel sorta unfaithful to me, albeit I know some people in the biz who are married and their partners are fine with it, but for me…”

Rhett stops pacing and flops down on the couch, groaning, “…and it’s not even like I can show off. I can’t show someone one of my films with pride and be like ‘look what I did’! Not my folks, not my theoretical other half, not-!”

“Me,” the word leaves Link’s mouth and he’s sort of shocked it left him. Rhett is shocked too, head whipping in his direction at the declaration and Link’s mouth just keeps working on its own, disconnected from his brain, “You…you can show me. If…if you want.”

The last comes out almost silent.

And Rhett just…keeps looking at him.

Link can hear everything. His breath. Rhett’s breath. The ticking of a clock some place. The television show whispering some medical mumbo jumbo. The air conditioning. His heart beat. All of it. He hears it all and then he hears a tentative, “Yeah?”

And Link just nods.

*I swear the next part will have some kind of sex. I know it’s weird that I’ve had 3 parts of a fic now about pornstar!Rhett and no porn but it’s coming. I just…got lost in feels here.

#rhink #randl #my writing #peachworthy

[divagonzo]

Like a Muggle

A/N: This is inspired (and a roughly written one-shot in my side-verse) by @headcanonsandmore aka Dadcanons and their musing of Ron being an awesome father to his kids.

Rated T for innuendo and some snogging but also veiled references to physical violence and social mortification. 98% Ace Safe. This will eventually end up on Ao3 and maybe FF.net

For now, though, it’s all for the Tumblr crowds.

Edit: Now on Ao3.

Give me my demarcation line damn it!

Ron opened the window to admit the unexpected owl. He was working in the Wheeze's office, trying to balance the books and was instead accosted by a nondescript brown owl. "Letter from Neville?" Ron unwrapped the twine from the owl's leg. "Need a rasher or a kip?" The owl hooted what sounded like a No. "It's from Neville. Does he need a reply?" Yet another hooting no.

"Wanna run on back then since Neville doesn't need anything else?" Ron reached out and let the owl come to him, stroking his head feathers gently before the owl took off again. He unrolled the length of parchment, using the readers on top of his head to scan the letter. Disappointment welled in his heart at first before pride shined. He had to go tell Hermione this straightaway, sod the books for an hour. He grabbed his dark blue cloak for the short walk to the Ministry. Taking the floo was too much hassle for a brisk fall morning. "George, I gotta run to the ministry. Back in a few." "Bring me back those shipping contract papers that Percy has for us, wouldya? Save a plonker the trip." Ron threw up a rude gesture while taking the twenty minute walk to the front of the Ministry. He needed the break anyway from the numbers swirling around his head this morning.

Through the toilets and through security, even with the bailiff who knew who he was and still checked him, in the lift down six floors to the Magical Law Enforcement offices, through the rows of desks for the bureaucracy known as the Ministry to Hermione's personal secretary Miranda Blunt. "Ah, Mr. Weasley. You're not on her agenda today so I assume it's important for her to see you immediately? Well she's using the Floo with her Italian counterpart on business so it will be a few." Ron smiled, knowing how important Miranda actually was to Hermione. Everyone thought she was just her secretary but only a chosen few - Harry, Hermione, Hemera, and Ron knew that Miranda was also her personal bodyguard at the office, after the few times anyone tried to breach the security of the department to get to her. "Tea, Mr. Weasley?" "Please." "Three sugars, spot of milk?" "I'd almost think you're related to Hermione with that mind of yours." "Nah, it's only for the important stuff. Husband's tea is important knowledge. And it's also a way for you to know it's really me." Ron gave her a lopsided smile while Miranda slipped into the secure office, returning a couple of minutes later with a small tray of tea and a couple packets of biscuits. "Your wife didn't know if you were peckish or not." "You spoil a bloke, you know that?" Ron tore the packet open and inhaled the contents. He'd missed breakfast this morning on account of other pleasant activities then fell back asleep, only waking fifteen minutes before he was due at the shop. Miranda went back to her seat and used the contraption Hermione got her last year, called a typewriter. They'd explained it to Ron that it was like writing on parchment but easier to read for those who had trouble reading so many varied scrips from people. Hermione had even gifted one to Arthur and he spent countless hours using it writing to his kids and grandkids. The door opened up a couple of minutes later and Hermione stood there, making a motion for Ron to come into her office. Ron followed her in and then he kicked the door shut and gave her a enthusiastic greeting, one that she never complained about before pulling back from his lips, her cheeks flushed and her eyes closed. "You rarely come to the office on a Wednesday so what gives?" "I got a letter from Neville this morning and thought you probably should hear it from me than from him if he sent you a letter, too." "Letter?" Hermione pulled her glasses up to the bridge of her nose, a faint imitation of McGonagall and scanned the parchment twice. "Detention! Two weeks! Rose Lavender Weasley, of all the people! Hexing two another students!" She looked at Ron and saw him smirking slightly. "You prat. There's a page two, isn't there?" "Of course there is," Ron handed it over and watched her frown turn to a grimace and eventually into a smile. "She takes after you, she does." Hermione looked up from the parchment and smiled. "You were always so good on speaking up for me and occasionally fighting my battles when I didn't realize there was one going on." Hermione went back to her desk and opened a drawer, pulling out a cup, pointed her wand at it and re-heated the black coffee, and took a long sip. "You must have zero nerves in your mouth," Ron muttered from his seat across the desk. "You get used to it," Hermione pulled out a length of parchment along with her eagle owl quill and inkpot. "Anything you want to add into the letter I will send off straightaway?" "Nah, she should hear from you first anyway," Ron knew he'd write a letter later today and send it off tomorrow morning so Rose would know how proud her dad was for her standing up for others. Hermione went to work writing and in short order, finished it and cleaned up the parchment with her quill. "I considered a howler but I refuse to do that to our child for any reason. I hated getting them when people thought I was toying around with guys during the Tri-wizard tournament. Besides, Neville has everything under control so I'm not upset too much over it." Ron recalled punching a certain git in the nose and smiled. "Who'd have thought that what started as bullying would turn into a trip for three of the bullies to the hospital ward with Hannah and two weeks detention for Rosie for hexing two students bullying Hugo and his friends, and blackening the eyes of the other two when they disarmed her. I don't think her having a broken hand for punching the boy in the nose was too far for her." "And Neville did say the boys pulled their wands first and she was disarmed." "I'm glad I taught her there's no shame in fighting unfairly when it's overwhelming odds." "I do hope there's no ongoing reprisals." Hermione looked at Ron and saw him shaking his head. "Nah, if I know any better, I'm sure the sods in question were told off privately to leave Hugo alone if they knew what was best for them." Hermione let out a stifled laugh. "What kind of idiot takes on a Rose when almost all of her cousins are present these terms? The only one who isn't' there is Teddy, Right?" Ron nodded. Hermione smiled slightly. "Sixth years and she's a third year, Ron." "She's as tall as many of the boys there, Hermione. It doesn't surprise me in the least. And if there are any further problems, Victorie would probably step in and put them in their rightful place, I reckon." Hermione picked up the parchment and scanned it one last time. "I think we do need to send a howler tomorrow." "Really? Why?" "One of the gits is Zacharias Smith's son and he said that “the only reason you weren’t expelled for this is because of your parents.”

Ron's eyes lit up. "Thinking what I'm thinking?" "I am."

Yet another demarcation line!

Rose tromped into breakfast, exhausted. She's been in detention with Professor Sinestra until one in the morning helping her sort maps and other useless rubbish. Hugo was the one who loved Astronomy and the stars. Only thing she wanted was to race around the Quidditch pitch and now she was banned for a fortnight, for standing up for those who needed protecting. It was so bloody unfair! James and Fred said she was brilliant for what she did and so did Molly and Scorpius. Al, being Al, laughed quietly when she said why she'd gotten detention. She looked up from her seat at the table, her friends with her in commiseration, and saw Zeb sitting across the way, scowling at her with two black eyes and a brace around his left wrist. Madame Abbot Longbottom said it was a small price for him to pay for being a bully on first years - that everyone in the school would know his shame. Owls swooped in, each dropping parcels for those who were present in the Great Hall. She glanced up and saw a tawny brown owl carrying a red envelope in it's talons. She felt the utter dread in the pit of her stomach.

Her parents sent her a howler. She knew she'd stepped in dragon dung if they were mad enough to send a howler. She felt the shame on her face and neck, a reminder to her that her Dad was the same way. She saw Professor Longbottom surreptitiously pull his wand from his robes, ready to silence it into oblivion if it got out of hand.

One last glance across the way and she saw Zeb Smith smirking, knowing how much trouble she was about to get into.

She took it in a shaking hand and tore the top off, hearing her Mum's tsking loudly. "Fuck," she said under her breath.

"Rose Lavender Granger, detention? Of all the things to get in trouble for, and you chose this," Hermione's voice droned loudly. She was shocked. Mom wasn’t yelling, well, no more than seemed usual. "We are so proud of you for standing up for the younger students. Who picks on first years minding their own business? What prat thinks so poorly of themselves that they'd berate first years for playing in the hallways between classes? " "Who tries to hex firsties?" Ron's voice interrupted. "Rude!" 

“Yes, it was very rude and you were right to intervene.” Hermione’s voice carried across the hall.

"We spoke with your head of house," Ron's voice bellowed, "and agree that the punishment fits the circumstances. Two weeks detention is adequate to us." "Sometimes the consequences are a fair price to pay." Hermione said.  "Serve your detentions knowing that we are proud of you for standing up for others who need protecting from bullies." "Love, Dad - " - and Mum." Rose released the breath she'd been holding entirely too long and looked across the way. Zeb was no longer at the table and neither were his three friends she'd put in the hospital wing fighting them like a Muggle.

#Dragon's Fics #Hpfic #Romione #Rose Weasley Granger #Ron Weasley #Hermione Granger #Hugo Granger-Weasley #OCs #Neville Longbottom #This ties into my fics from Romione FicFest #where Rose is a quidditch prodigy #and eventually has issues with Mum #But for this one things are still swimmingly good #tw: #tw: off page mentions of physical violence #tw: bullying references

[omniswords]

Chronicles of a Parisian Dumbass 16

oh gosh, i'm so sorry for the late update!! i promise i'm still working on this, little by little. i am on vacation next week, so maybe i'll get the chance to really put some work in.

in any case, enjoy today's update c:

okay, so who the hell was gonna tell me that CBG’s designed a whole-ass album cover for my favorite artist of all time?

scratch that. who was gonna tell me she designed my FAVORITE album cover for my FAVORITE artist of all time?

Bubbles, as it turns out, has known Marinette Dupain-Cheng since he was four years old. Went to school with her and everything. So that’s another scoop to the shit Luka’s landed himself in. He still isn’t sure what gave him greater whiplash: finding out about that connection, or finding her name in the fine print of Jagged stone’s album credits. He also isn’t sure whether it’s a good thing that Nino mentions little else, and especially dodges the question of if it’s even cool to actually admit to having a gigantic crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or whether he’s just wasting his time.

Cool.

Cool, cool, cool.

(Luka is most definitely not cool.)

Especially for those freeze-frames of time that he wonders, to his own horror, if Bubbles has been Adrien Agreste all this time.

It takes him the better part of an hour of pacing and fidgeting with his guitar pick to realize that no, he hasn’t been casually messaging a fashion mogul’s son who also just so happened to be Marinette’s own gigantic crush. He doesn’t seem like the type to use “dude” in everyday conversation, and for another thing, it didn't exactly like up with what Marinette had said about them knowing each other in middle school.

One day, Luka swears, he’s going to take this anxiety thing out back and have it meet its maker.

Even if, maybe, he sort of is its maker.

(Okay, maybe he's going to take his brain out back, because he's definitely not responsible for that.)

But he figures, once that initial panic and urge to scream into his pillow wear off, that it might be a cool talking point between him and Marinette. One that, for once, doesn’t have much to do with either of their jobs. Or with how tongue-tied he gets around her because she just won’t stop being so pretty. Not that that’s a problem; both his sister and his mother would have his head for ever thinking that way, and even then, Rose would tell them to get in line. Something about how they didn’t raise him this way, even if two of them didn’t even raise him at all.

Luka waits a couple of days before stopping by the bakery again; it gives them both some breathing room and the time for those postcards to be finished and printed. He thinks about it a lot. The postcards. The effort. Marinette, too, but in his quietly flustered opinion, he thinks that’s a given. He doesn’t get the chance to come until close to closing time again because of his delivery shift; he just hopes they don’t mind too much. He braces himself the whole ride over for whatever may be coming: another friendly crack about napoleons and pear tarts, the beauty of the postcards, maybe even another offer of kindness if Marinette’s pattern is anything to go by.

The one thing Luka doesn’t brace himself for—which, of course, is the one thing that ends up happening—is the door propped open, and the music drifting out through the crack. And he can’t even revel in the fact that it’s one of his favorite songs playing, because…

Because Marinette is dancing. Rag in one hand, spray bottle in the other. No, it’s not like, a flawlessly choreographed routine or anything. It’s more like a mix of what Rose does during their down time when she has too much energy and nowhere to put it, and what Juleka does when she’s trying to find the rhythm of a new song. It’s blissfully unaware, and beautiful, and it feels like home, and Luka can’t stop staring.

He doesn’t mean to. He knows he shouldn’t. It’s just… he can’t remember ever seeing a moment when she was simply “Marinette, “instead of “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Friend to Practically Everybody.” or “Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Daughter of the Owners of The Best Bakery In Paris.” or even “Marinette, the Girl Behind the Counter with the Sketchbook Full of Secrets and the connections to Jagged Fucking Stone.”

Okay, maybe he’s been watching a couple too many fantasy movies lately.

And he definitely needs to look away, like, right now, because she does this thing with her hips that makes his brain forget how to function for a second, and he needs his brain to function in every sense of the phrase, and God fucking damn it, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is hot and he’s not supposed to think that she’s hot—

And she’s looking at him. Frozen. right as he’s about to get off his bike and knock.

And, like the total idiot he can only manage to be at the worst possible times, he trips. Over his bike. And faceplants, right in front of Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

He’s somewhere between waiting for death to take him, and thanking his Ma for always getting on him about wearing a helmet, and wondering if he really was so stupid that his first instinct was to run, when the bell over the bakery door rings like mad. Someone cries out his name, and the music cuts, and there’s a skitter of footsteps on concrete. When he comes to himself and starts to sit up, he finds himself face-to-face with Marinette, who's kneeling beside him and already scanning him for any injuries.

The first thing she says, with her hand in her hair, is, “Oh, God. She’s gonna kill me.”

The first thing he says, with a wince, is, “Yikes.”

It’s then that the pain sinks in, dull and searing and throbbing all at once, as if punishing him for choosing to say that, of all things. He sits up a bit more, pain chasing up his spine and stinging his palms; his knee is badly scraped and starting to swell, he realizes once he gets a good look at the rest of him. He can’t tell yet, whether Juleka would call this karma or kismet. All he can think is that at least his jeans were already ripped.

“Can…” Marinette swallows hard, but otherwise she’s entirely unfazed. “Can you stand? Put weight on it? Oh God, oh my God, she’s actually gonna kill me.”

“I…” Cautiously, Luka tries to get to his feet, and Marinette makes space for him. All it takes is one step for a jolt of pain to shoot up his leg, and he staggers and clutches the closest streetlamp, nearly tripping over his bike again in the process. “Shit,” is all he can bite out after drawing his breath in through his teeth and holding onto it for too long. He lets it out, little by little, and his grip on the lamppost loosens. “It’s okay, I’m—I can just walk my bike to the metro station, and—”

It’s like she isn’t even listening to him; she’s looking around the bike, evidently searching for something. Finally, she finds it—his bike lock—and after it and the bakery door are secure, she coaxes his arm around her shoulder. It’s almost comical, because he’s got a good thirty centimeters on her, but it hurts too much to laugh. Or, apparently, to stammer in protest when she leads him through the side door and up the stairs to her apartment.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no. Seeing her in her pajamas was enough of an invasion of her privacy. But seeing the inside of her literal, actual home? Oh, no. No way.

“You’re hurt,” she says simply, as if she’s read his mind; her voice is trembling, the way voices do when they know they shouldn’t. “It’d be against like, everything I am as a person if I just let you leave.” She only lets go of him to unlock the door, and only then does it occur to him that, for a few moments that should have been blissful, they were side-by-side, and in some places skin-to-skin.

Mr. Dupain gives them a funny, almost unreadable look when Marinette opens the door. One look at Luka’s leg seems to answer any questions he might have had, and effortlessly he helps Luka to the couch while Marinette disappears into the bathroom. “You know,” he jokes under his breath, “When I imagined someone falling for my daughter, I didn’t mean literally.”

Luka’s face goes hot. “I didn’t—I’m not—”

Whatever he wants to say falls on deaf ears, and Mr. Dupain makes himself scarce as soon as Marinette emerges from the bathroom. Even as she lifts his leg onto the coffee table, Luka swears he can feel those kind, quietly insistent eyes burning holes into him all the way from the kitchen. He doesn’t get to think much more about what Mr. Dupain might have meant, or what he would have said to refute it, because Marinette is pressing an alcohol pad to the scrapes, and it stings like a motherfucker—which is probably a good thing for more reasons than one.

“You don’t have to do this,” he says weakly, because somewhere along the way, I don’t deserve it got stuck in his throat and refused to come out.

Marinette gives him a look. He can’t quite figure out what it means. “Yeah. I do.”

“Nah.” He readjusts, braces himself for the second sting of the ointment and the bandages. “I kinda deserved it. Jules would call it karma, I guess.”

There she goes again, wincing at the mere mention of Juleka. Or maybe… maybe it’s something else. Without a word, she gets up and disappears into the kitchen, and he spends her whole absence wondering what he said or did. He’s only relieved when she returns with a bag of frozen corn and a shrug as if to say, It’s all we had. She presses the bag to his knee, breathing deep in time with him, or maybe in hopes that his breathing will start to match hers. Then she speaks, and her voice wavers.

“Why would you ever think,” she murmurs, “that you deserve any pain?”

Luka opens his mouth. Shuts it. Opens and shuts again. This time, at least for a while, the words don’t even make it to his throat. Eventually, all he can spit out is, “I was. Watching. You.”

“I know,” Marinette says, turning as pink as her shorts. “I saw.”

That’s the one thing he can appreciate: she doesn’t try to downplay it or say it was dumb. Even now, she’s unapologetic, and direct, and God, maybe he’s just fallen a little more. “I shouldn’t have,” he says. “I was gonna knock, I was…” He shifts again, his knee still in her gentle grasp, and flinches. “I just… wanted to see your postcards.”

I just wanted to see you.

“Marinette.” His lips tingle just from saying her name, and his stomach is churning. “Who… who’s gonna kill you?”

This time, Marinette goes scarlet; it would look about as pretty as literally every other color and pattern she wears if she didn’t seem so… mortified. “I’ll go get one of—the postcards,” she says—stammers, more like—and as she’s heading upstairs she calls out, “Papa, he can’t walk. Can we drive him home?”

From the kitchen, Mr. Dupain winks.

1 Photo Attached

RIP lol

and no, i’m not talking about my jeans. those were already like that.

but also. 😬 oh boy.

#miraculous ladybug #lukanette #luka couffaine #marinette dupain cheng #fic: chronicles of a parisian dumbass #oh my dude we are in for it now.